


Bad Liar

by KeffiStarler



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alive Allison, Anal Sex, Angst with a Happy Ending, Derek Hale is Bad at Feelings, Detective Stiles, Drunk Stiles, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Sex, First Time, First Time Blow Jobs, Fluff and Angst, Gay Sex, Hale Family Feels, Hurt Stiles, Jackson Comes Back, Jealous Stiles, Kidnapping, Lonely Derek, M/M, Minor Original Character(s), Nogitsune Trauma, Oral Sex, Pining Derek, Pool Sex, Post-Nogitsune Stiles Stilinski, Public Sex, Sassy Peter, Secret Relationship, Sexual Content, Shower Sex, Smut, Top Derek Hale/Bottom Stiles Stilinski, Underage Drinking, Underage Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-27
Updated: 2018-03-08
Packaged: 2019-02-07 19:00:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 44
Words: 151,505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12847482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KeffiStarler/pseuds/KeffiStarler
Summary: After the horrors of the Nogitsune, Stiles struggles to find his place among his friends. With Allison in the hospital, life slipping from her fragile form, Stiles can't face his own internal turmoil. But when the most unlikely person goes from acquaintance to friend, and from friend to something neither of them ever expected - involving a lot less clothing than he may ever have expected - Stiles might be able to begin finding himself again.However, with Beacon Hills under threat from an unknown foe, Stiles has to put aside his fears and save his friends before he loses anyone else.Derek has become accustomed to life on his own. He has learnt how to cope with the loneliness and the silence. He knows he is better off this way. At least until Stiles becomes a useless wreck who needs his help and Derek realises he's too much of a pushover to resist saving him. But saving Stiles becomes a little more complicated when Derek's desire to help him soon turns into a need he cannot deny.Stiles/Derek story. Allison is not dead but in a coma. Some angst but not too dark.





	1. Avoidance

**Author's Note:**

> Hello. This is a story I have been working on for a few years. I kept losing faith in it and worrying about posting it but I stuck with it and am currently finishing the last chapter.  
> There are a lot of chapters but they are mostly quite small so don't be put off because it says chapter 1 of 42! They will be roughly 3000 each, some more, some less.  
> I wrote this over a very long period of time so I hope the story reads consistently. Every time I started it up again I had to re-read everything I had done before!  
> Anyway, I hope you enjoy and please be kind! I'm a bit nervous about posting a full length story. If you like it, I can hopefully post a new chapter quite frequently because I have all of them written apart from the last one which is half done.  
> There are some original characters but they are not overly important for most of the story.  
> Disclaimer: I own nothing. Teen Wolf is not mine, these characters are not mine, so on and so forth.

The hospital was the loneliest place. A stark white building, white uniforms, white bed sheets, white clipboards with white paper, scrawled over with the black ink of fate. Lung cancer. Heart failure. Internal bleeding. Brain tumour. Coma. An entire life could be spent in such a place; sitting, waiting, watching. Watching someone die. Someone you love.

Derek was grateful he was watching from the outside.

The corridor behind him was buzzing with life while the room on the other side of the glass panel was silent apart from the beeping of the machinery attached to the lifeless body in the bed. Dark ringlets were tucked neatly behind pearl studded ears, cheeks as white as the hospital walls. A single figure sat beside the patient, frame made small by the hunching of shoulders.

Nothing had changed since last week.

Derek made a final scan of the scene before turning on his heel, walking swiftly to the exit.

xxx

Monday, 7th December

The buzzing of the 7:30 alarm saluted the start of another miserable day. When Stiles managed to bring himself to finally hit the off button and roll out of his duvet he noted that the weather outside was decidedly dull. The sky held no colour. A thin white blanket of cloud was all that could be seen. Dragging some clothes over his tired, pale body and half-heartedly combing his hair, he slumped down the stairs and plonked himself down in a chair at the breakfast bar. His dad was hurrying around the kitchen, phone pressed up to his ear with his shoulder, hands juggling jacket, car keys and a cheese and ham sandwich. He hardly noticed Stiles until he made for the door and had just enough time to roughly shove the sandwich in his mouth and use his free hand to gently squeeze the back of his son’s neck in goodbye. He then hurried through the door and was gone for the day. Stiles knew he would be unlikely to see him again until the following day.

Breakfast that morning was a sorry bowl of cereal and a glass of orange juice that tasted a little out of date. He tipped it back regardless and switched on his mobile. It buzzed twice against the breakfast bar. One message from Scott, another from Lydia.

 **Scott:** _Hey. You up for lacrosse practice tonight? Coach will kick you off the team if you miss too many._

He’d only missed two. He had a sore ankle. At least that’s what he told Coach who had been less than impressed. He then checked his message from Lydia.

 **Lydia:** _You should come see her with me after school today. If you’re skipping lacrosse again, you have no excuse._

Stiles’ ankle was suddenly feeling a lot better. He returned to Scott’s message.

 **Stiles:** _I’ll be there._

He managed to avoid Lydia almost all day. It was only at last period that he failed to escape her clutches. He was just about the swerve into his final class, Chemistry, when she saw him and pounded across the linoleum floor in her heels and cut him off at the last second.

‘You can’t avoid this forever.’

‘Heeey, Lydia. Funny how I haven’t seen you all day.’

She wasn’t going to swallow such blatant bullshit.

‘You never texted me back.’

‘Ah yeah. I gotta get back to lacrosse. The team needs me.’ Stiles gave a stupid grin, hoping to fool her but when she raised a single, immaculate eyebrow he shrugged as if to suggest there was nothing to be done about it.

‘You’ve got a friend in the hospital who needs you more.’

With that, she turned and marched away, hair swinging over her shoulder, coconut sent filling the air.

xxx

His attempts at lacrosse that evening were poor. He hardly moved when the ball came flying across the pitch at him and he almost forgot where he was, his mind lost on other concerns.

‘Bilinski! Move your ass or get off my field!’

Coach jumped up and down in frustration, arms waving frantically. Stiles made himself focus for the next few minutes and managed a shot on goal. He missed.

Once practice was over, Scott ambled towards him, pulling his lacrosse kit off as they walked towards the changing rooms.

‘You doing ok, man? You seem really far away.’

‘Yeah dude, I was down field from you, that’s why.’ Stiles joked, voice only half betraying his exhaustion from sleepless nights.

Scott grinned and rolled his eyes.

‘I’m serious. You ok?’

Stiles shrugged. They reached the changing room and once inside, they all began to strip.

‘As good as I can be.’

Scott gave a pained look, pulling his shirt over his head.

‘It’s been almost a month. Have you even been to see her once?’

Twenty three days. It had been twenty three days, each one of them more dire than the last.

Stiles undressed and headed quickly for the showers. Avoiding the question was the easiest way of dealing with the guilt.

The following morning went almost exactly the same as the one before, minus the text message from Scott. Lydia, however, was as persistent as ever. Surprisingly, he managed to avoid her all day and made it to his car at four o’clock with no trouble. He waved Scott goodbye as he zoomed off on his motorbike. He was off to the hospital again. He hadn’t bothered asking Stiles to join him this time.

Instead of driving home, Stiles made a beeline for the Sheriff’s station. His dad would be working a late shift again that night and he wanted to see him before he went home to an empty house for dinner. He parked in his usual spot and easily made his way through to his dad’s office. He found his father sat behind his desk, phone in one hand, coffee in the other. He nodded to Stiles as he came in.

‘Yes, that sounds fine. Send it over to me as soon as you’re done. Yep…Ok…Bye.’ He put the receiver down. ‘Hey, kiddo. How was school?’ Stiles shrugged. It was easier than talking. ‘Exciting as ever, I see.’

‘How’s work?’

The Sheriff sighed.

‘Long. I’ve been on the phone all day. We’ve been having trouble with several shootings over the last few weeks that at first seemed pretty normal but now I’m not so sure.’

‘How d’you mean?’ Stiles was suddenly on edge. Was something new about to turn up in Beacon Hills and cause yet more havoc?

Cue a bigger sigh from the Sheriff who had the beginnings of bags under his eyes.

‘It could be nothing but I want to get a specialist’s opinion on it before I pass it off as nothing.’

‘Specialist opinion?’

xxx

Tuesday, 8th December

Specialist opinion. That’s what he’d called it. Derek wasn’t sure that being a werewolf qualified him as a specialist on all supernatural occurrences and creatures but he supposed he knew more than the poor Sheriff who seemed to be trying to eliminate all possibilities from a potentially serious series of shootings.

He hadn’t really wanted to go all the way to the station to find that he knew nothing about the case at hand but apart from reading and working out, his days were very uninspiring. He could do with leaving the apartment more often than his visits to the hospital and the supermarket. He adorned his leather jacket and made his way to the car and fifteen minutes later found himself outside the Sheriff’s office. He hadn’t often been inside the station without his hands behind his back and he received a few odd stares from officers who had previously arrested him. He knocked on the Sheriff’s door and was beckoned inside.

‘Derek, come in. Thank you for coming to see me.’

‘Derek?’

Only then did Derek notice Stiles sat in the chair opposite his father.

‘Yes, Derek is the “specialist” I asked to come in to give me some advice on this case.’ Stiles seemed unsure and narrowed his eyes. Derek was already wishing he hadn’t agreed to this.

‘What do you need from me?’ Derek spoke bluntly. He wanted this to be over as soon as possible. The Sheriff slid a folder over the desk to him and Derek sat down. He flicked through the paperwork as the Sheriff spoke.

‘There have been several shootings in Beacon Hills over the last few months.’ Derek read the first sheet. Four shootings, to be exact, but luckily none of them had been fatal. ‘All the victims have been male and between the ages of sixteen and twenty. This maniac has been targeting kids as far as we can tell.’

‘So what does this have to do with me? I don’t see anything abnormal about this case.’

‘I didn’t think so either. But then I looked at the dates that these shootings happened.’ The Sheriff slid a calendar over and Derek could see the last three weeks before him. Three dates had been circled. Derek looked more closely. Two of the shootings had occurred on the full moon.

‘Did the shootings happen at night?’ The Sheriff nodded. Derek mulled the information over in his mind. It wasn’t enough to suggest supernatural activity.

‘There’s more.’ The Sheriff said quickly, sensing Derek’s doubt. ‘More than one person was shot at the full moon and all the victims were shot with bullets made of silver.’

Derek frowned.

‘Silver bullets. That’s just a myth. They don’t affect werewolves any more than a normal bullet would.’

‘I know that, but the gunman might not.’

‘What?’ Stiles asked, face contorted in confusion.

‘The dates of the shootings, the age and gender of the victims and the use of silver bullets made me wonder if we might be dealing with another maniac like Matt Daehler. Someone could be targeting male teens on the full moon in the hopes of killing young werewolves. More importantly, Scott.’

‘Why would they be after Scott?’ Stiles sounded scared.

‘Because he’s the alpha.’ Derek said, his mind lost in thought.

‘My thoughts exactly.’ The Sheriff stood and walked to the wall where he had pinned up the faces of all the victims. ‘If this killer had found out about werewolves and objected to them or was maybe being controlled by someone else like Jackson was, Scott and the others could be in danger. You too, Derek.’

‘How can I help? I can see how you’ve come to this possible conclusion but I can’t see a way in which I could help you. So far it could still be a regular, run of the mill, trigger happy loon. The fact that they’re using silver bullets suggests to me that this isn’t someone well versed in the supernatural. They would know that silver is useless against werewolves if they were. This sounds more like a psycho who likes targeting innocent kids.’

‘Derek’s right, dad. This guy sounds like he knows almost nothing about supernatural beings. If he were one or hunted them, then surely he would know how to kill a werewolf?’

It was a little disconcerting that Stiles agreed with him. They were so often at loggerheads that when they shared the same thoughts it made Derek question himself. Was he being a moron?

‘I understand, Derek. I purely wanted someone more experienced with all this to take a look at the information I’ve gathered. To ease my mind I suppose. I hope I haven’t inconvenienced you too much.’

‘It’s fine. I wasn’t busy.’

The Sheriff sighed again and ran a hand through his hair.

‘I was going to contact Chris Argent about it but considering what he’s going through…I decided against it. He spends almost every minute by her side.’

Derek gave a short nod. He’d seen Chris sat there. Motionless, just like his daughter.

Derek stood to leave and noticed Stiles shifting awkwardly in his seat, avoiding eye contact with both of them.

‘If anything else comes up, call me.’

The Sheriff nodded and thanked him for coming. Derek looked over to Stiles who was watching him leave. He briefly raised a single brow in gesture and left.

xxx

Tuesday, 8th December

Stiles had been wrong to think himself safe from Lydia that day. Despite her lack of presence during school hours, she was increasingly persistent that evening. Stiles had hardly gotten home before his phone started dinging endlessly with angry text messages. After he ignored ten of them, she tried calling him. After four missed calls, she ordered him to pick up by text. Stiles eventually gave in, two “missed calls” later.

‘Hello?’ he answered as though he didn’t know who it was on the other end.

‘I don’t understand what’s wrong with you! Allison is in the hospital. Don’t you care?’ Her voice was full of accusation and anger. Stiles couldn’t blame her.

He drew in a jagged breath.

‘Of course I do.’

‘Then why haven’t you been to see her yet?’

Stiles’ heartbeat leapt up. He swallowed thickly. He had been asked this question several times over the last few weeks and he had yet to answer it. He knew why but he didn’t have the courage to vocalise it. He was afraid of being selfish.

‘I’ll go when I can.’ His voice was painfully small. He closed his eyes and tried to slow his racing heart.

‘When you can? What makes you so busy all of a sudden?’

‘Please stop calling and texting me about this.’

He hung up as she ranted down the phone.

Another pill of guilt to swallow.

Would have been easier if he could actually breathe.

xxx

The panic attack had been relatively easy to handle. He had sat on the floor, doubled over, hands over his head, breathing deeply between his knees. Twenty minutes of gentle rocking and steady breathing seemed to expel the panic and stress but the pain in his head gradually worsened. He needed to lie down.  When he made it to bed, he didn’t even bother undressing. He crawled under the sheets and curled into a ball. Sleep drew him in quickly and for once he wasn’t plagued by horrifying nightmares and didn’t wake again until the alarm rang at 7:30am the following morning.

He didn’t make it to school that day.


	2. Curiosity

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!  
> Here is chapter two. I hope you enjoy it.  
> There is some detective speak in this chapter - I know nothing about police work or being a detective so if anything is wrong or seems like I have no idea what I'm talking about, please forgive me.  
> Also, this story is canon up until the Allison was killed in the show but one minor change is that Derek and Braeden happened right after the Nogitsune was defeated rather than at the end of season four but this is just briefly mentioned and isn't important to the story. Just thought I'd say. :)  
> Ok, enough from me.  
> Enjoy!

Thursday, 10th December

‘You feeling up for school today?’

Stiles grimaced at the thought. He sat at the breakfast bar, duvet slung around his shoulders. Avoiding the question was undoubtedly easier. He’d always been good at distracting people with nonsense to avoid getting into trouble.

‘How’s that new case coming along?’

The Sheriff rolled his eyes. He knew his son’s antics better than anyone.

‘Nothing much has come up since I called Derek in. No more shootings so no new information. No witnesses have come forward. It’s a waiting game.’

Stiles nodded. He knew what it was like. So often his father dealt with cases that took months to unfold themselves. Stiles just hoped Derek was right. He wasn’t ready to deal with another maniac monster. He hadn’t fully recovered from the last one.

‘It’ll all sort itself out in the end.’ Stiles said with a smile.

‘Yes, I’m sure it will. You, on the other hand…are you going to sort yourself out?’

‘Me? I’m fine. More than fine. I’m great. I’m _swell_ , even.’ He waved a hand dismissively. The Sheriff sighed and raised his slightly wrinkled brow.

‘You may be a goof ball but you’re _my_ goof ball. I know when something is wrong.’

Stiles’ expression became serious.

‘Dad, I’m fine.’

His dad squinted his eyes. Stiles knew he didn’t believe him.

‘Get to school. I’ll see you tonight.’

xxx

Thursday, 10th December

Ninety seven. Ninety eight. Ninety nine. One hundred.

Derek let go of the bar and bent his knees as he landed on the ground. He dropped to the floor, into a push-up position and started counting from one. He needn’t bother counting if he were honest. His supernatural strength meant he seldom found his muscles had a chance to tire during his exercise routines. There was no real need to stop at one hundred. Any strain or damage was almost instantly repaired by his ever healing body. It took a lot of hard work to build any muscle. He had to damage the muscles enough for them to grow. It was a good thing he had nothing else to occupy himself with.

While he enjoyed not having terrible monsters to fight off or teenagers hanging around, constantly demanding his help, Derek missed having something to do. He missed being with people. He needed some action. His short lived fling with Braeden, just after the Nogitsune had been destroyed, had been exciting and filled Derek’s days with pleasure and comfort. But it had been only fleeting. They both agreed that it wasn’t a long term situation. They led different lives.

The possibility of a new enemy to protect the town from was somehow appealing. Such thoughts wracked him with guilt. He thought of Boyd and Erica, how they had died trying to help him fight against the horrors of the supernatural world. And now Allison. Lifeless and close to death. All of them just kids. It wasn’t something he wanted to see again.

He’d received no calls from the Sheriff since he had been called into the station a couple days earlier. He assumed nothing new had come in. He supposed that was good. If nothing suspicious had occurred then the chance of it being supernatural was slim. Less for everyone to worry about.

Derek’s main worry was keeping the boredom at bay. He spent most of his time working out or reading. A couple times a week he went food shopping and for the last three weeks or so, a few times a week, he went to the hospital to see Allison. He’d never been into her room, only watching through the glass. He wasn’t sure if Chris had ever noticed him there. If he had, he never let on. Derek had wanted to keep his distance, afraid to disturb the silence in which Allison’s father prayed to any god or deity that might be up there to save his only child. Chris had never struck Derek as a religious man. In fact, he knew he wasn’t. But extreme circumstances often led to desperation.

Scott made himself apparent at the hospital frequently. He sat by her side, holding her hand, talking to her as though nothing had happened. Derek could hear his warm tones through the glass and knew deep down Scott was breaking. Soon he wouldn’t be able to keep his cover up. He’d have to face facts and accept fate. Lydia, too, was very often there when Derek came by. She made sure to file Allison’s nails, painted them a few times as well. She brushed her hair, cleansed her skin with gentle wipes and busied herself around the comatose girl, distracting herself from the reality of the situation.

Isaac seemed to have kept away more than Derek had expected. Although, the shock of what had happened when he and Allison had only just begun their relationship was possibly a little too much to take on. He was in love with a dying girl. When he did come by, he stood against the door, watching her chest move slowly up and down. And after an hour or so of silent watching, he would leave. Kira came by with her mother. Noshiko offered Chris kind words of support which were appreciated but seemed to do little to encourage him.

Derek wondered if anyone had noticed him there. He always turned up after the others arrived and left before they did. Sometimes he’d wait in his car outside to watch them leave. They all left wearing the same expression.

Despair.

As Derek reached one hundred push-ups, he flipped onto his back and started his sit-ups. After twenty or so, he realised something.

Stiles.

He had never seen Stiles sat by Allison’s bedside. Never watched him through the glass, offering support or talking nonsense so the unconscious girl in the bed. Never seen him leaving the hospital with that same agonised expression. Maybe he’d simply never been there on the days Stiles went to visit. He hadn’t really seen Stiles since the Nogitsune had been defeated. He had no idea what he was up to. The school year was still in full swing so he supposed Stiles was worrying about homework and exams just like every other kid in his class. Maybe Stiles was too overworked to visit the hospital.

But even the Sheriff, the busiest man in the town, had made time to see Allison. Something was wrong.

His interest was piqued.

By Stiles.

It wasn’t something Derek was used to.

xxx

Later that evening, Derek trekked to the hospital. He parked his car a fair distance away and walked through the parked cars in front of the towering building. He looked out for cars he recognised. None today apart from Chris’ car which was almost a permanent fixture. No blue jeep, however. Stiles, it seemed, was absent once again.

The whoosh of warm air at the door was appreciated as Derek walked quickly through towards the elevator. He didn’t want to bump into Melissa or anyone else he knew and so made himself scarce. Once at Allison’s room he would be unlikely to see anyone and if someone came to see her, he’d hear them before they even made it out of the elevator. It wasn’t that he disliked his pack, quite the opposite. He simply found it difficult to deal with people who were suffering with grief. He’d known plenty of it himself but had never been able to comfort or console. It had never come naturally to him. And what does one say to the father of a dying child?

It didn’t take long to get to her room. Once there, he stood facing in through the window, arms crossed over his broad chest. Chris was there, as expected, pacing the room. His mind seemed to be, for once, away from Allison’s still form. He was muttering something to himself. The beginnings of a breakdown, perhaps.

Derek stood on and watched, making sure he was hidden from view in case Chris turned around. After twenty minutes of staring into the depressing scene, Derek’s ears pricked up.

Scott and Lydia were coming up in the elevator.

Derek ducked around the corner. He waited for them to walk down the corridor and enter the room but they stopped outside the door instead. Derek hoped the strong clinical smell of the hospital would be enough to mask his scent from Scott’s sensitive werewolf nose.

‘I don’t know what to do. He’s now refusing to answer my calls and messages.’

Scott sighed.

‘He’s missed what, four days of school in the last two weeks, now? And I hardly saw him today. I don’t know what’s wrong with him.’

‘He’s being selfish, that’s what.’ Lydia’s voice cracked a little. Her emotions were breaking through her usually cool exterior. ‘She needs us. _All_ of us.’

Derek couldn’t see it but he sensed Scott nodding.

‘He’ll come around. I’m sure he has a reason for not visiting. Maybe he’s too scared to see her like this.’

‘Well he better or I’m just gonna have to kick his ass.’

Scott chuckled.

‘Come on, let’s get in there. For all we know she can actually hear us and is waiting to know what we got up to today.’

‘Oh yeah, I’m sure she wants to know all about nomenclature and isomerism in organic chemistry and how undercooked your lunch was.’

‘Hey, it was practically still alive! Nearly crawled off the plate!’

Their voices dissipated as they moved into the room and shut the door.

Derek resumed his previous position and watched them take seats beside the bed. Chris stopped his pacing as soon as they arrived and he too took a seat.

So Derek had been right; Stiles hadn’t been to visit Allison yet. There must have been a reason for it. Derek thought back to the Sheriff’s office. He recalled Stiles’ sullen behaviour at the mention of Allison’s name.

Once again, Derek’s interest was piqued by Stiles Stilinski, of all people.

xxx

The evening for Stiles was spent hunched over his laptop. He had been researching the connection between werewolves and silver since he got home and the room had long since fallen dark apart from the harsh blue light glaring off from the screen. Stiles eyes were tired and sore, his hand cramping a little over the mouse.

His research had brought him right back to the start of the nightmare he’d been living over the past year. When Scott had first been bitten, Stiles had spent hours in this exact position, trying to uncover the truth about the supernatural world he had never believed could possibly be real. But it _was_ real. So unbelievably, painfully real. It had turned them all into different people and destroyed countless lives. But there was no backing out now. If there was something out there killing people, Stiles had to do something about it. If he could find something that could help his dad or Derek and Scott, they could end this before anyone else got hurt. Before anyone else found themselves in the same state as Allison.

Stiles had started with a simple search for the connection between werewolves and silver bullets. The search brought up the information he already knew but he read it all again anyway. Maybe there was something he’d missed. The Beast of Gévaudan was the main focus of his search. His attention fell upon the final attacks of the creature and its death. It seemed that there were numerous versions of the myth. In some versions the hunter was named Argent, meaning ‘silver’, which led to the belief that silver was used to kill werewolves. However, in other versions, a hunter called Jean Chastel had killed the beast during an organised hunt. In written records of the event more details had been added over the years. It was said that Chastel killed the beast with a blessed silver bullet that he’d made himself.

It brought his mind back to Allison. She had just finished learning how to make her own arrow heads, her own ‘bullet’, when she got injured.

Stiles quickly continued to read.

The bullet Chastel used had been imposed with a manufacturing symbol. Stiles couldn’t find out what the symbol was but he assumed it was a personal image, a family crest perhaps. If the bullets removed from the victims of the recent shootings had any kind of marking on them it could suggest that they were dealing with another family of hunters. Like the Argents, they could have moved to Beacon Hills after hearing reports of increased supernatural activity. Stiles made a note to ask his dad about it when he came home from work.

Stiles scrolled back up. A blessed silver bullet. Blessed? That suggested a religious connotation. Maybe the symbol Chastel had used was a religious symbol. Maybe they were dealing with a religious nut, someone who had found out about werewolves and taken it upon themselves to rid the world of them under the command of God. That would explain why they had targeted innocent humans; they were rookies.

Stiles sat back from the laptop. He was getting ahead of himself. He was tired.

He rolled his chair across the room to his bed and climbed into it. Having changed into his pyjamas the moment he got home from school, he was able to roll himself up in his duvet straight away. He was asleep in only a few minutes, due to his general exhaustion, but was woken shortly after when his bedroom door creaked open. He sat up, bleary eyed.

‘Sorry, son. Didn’t mean to wake you.’ his dad whispered.

‘It’s fine.’ Stiles waved a hand dismissively. ‘How was work?’

‘Still nothing. I’m gonna have to move onto another case soon. I can’t get too caught up in this because it might turn out to be nothing more than a few random shootings. If nothing… _suspicious_ turns up soon, I’m going to hand this down to another deputy.’

‘Before you do,’ Stiles pushed his tired body up out of bed and walked over to his desk. ‘I think I might have found something.’ He picked up the research he’d printed out for his dad and handed them over.

‘What’s this?’

‘Just some thoughts. They might be nothing.’

His dad glanced through the sheets of paper and sighed.

‘Thanks son. I’ll read it tomorrow. Hopefully it’ll finally get me somewhere.’ He ruffled Stile’s hair and hugged him goodnight.

xxx

Friday, 11th December

The next morning, Stiles was up early. He found his dad reading through the research he’d given him in the living room, two cups of coffee on the coffee table.

‘I could hear you getting up.’ His dad explained as he handed over the freshly made drink.

‘Thanks.’ Stiles sipped it slowly. ‘Any thoughts?’

The Sheriff nodded.

‘It seems like a possibility. The shootings seem rather random, apart from the small age range and all the victims being male, so maybe we are looking at some religious fanatic with a lacking knowledge of the supernatural. I need to find out from the forensics team if the bullets had any symbols or markings on them; they’ve been examining the bodies and have hold of the bullets. I haven’t had a chance to examine them myself yet. Anyway, if they do, religious or not, maybe this is an organised attack on Beacon Hills.’ He put the papers down and rubbed his tired eyes. ‘I wish I could talk to Argent about this. He’d know more about this than anyone.’

‘Have you tried?’

‘I’ve called a few times but he’s never home. Melissa tells me he’s always at the hospital so the only way I could speak to him is to talk to him there. I can’t do that. It would be insensitive.’

‘What are you gonna do then?’

‘I’ve got to call Derek and ask him to come in. Could you come by the station after school? You understand all this better than I do.’ He waved the paper. ‘You can explain it to him.’

Stiles nodded. He’d do all he could to help his dad. He worked too hard and Stiles was terrified that one day it was going to kill him.

xxx

Friday, 11th December

Derek was surprised when the Sheriff called him that afternoon. He hadn’t expected anything interesting to come up. He agreed to go down to the station around four o’clock.

When he got there, he was led through the station by a deputy who knocked on the Sheriff’s door. The Sheriff replied to the knock with a shape ‘yes!’ and the deputy opened the door. The Sheriff was sat behind his desk, head in his hand. He looked up and tried to smile but the lack of sleep in his eyes gave him away.

‘Derek, come in.’ He sat down and waited to be handed some new discovery in the case. ‘I’ve asked Stiles to come in too. He’s been doing some research for me and he’s found something that might help us. He should be here soon.’

Derek hoped it would be sooner rather than later; he didn’t fancy sitting in awkward silence until then.

They didn’t have to wait long. A few minutes later, Stiles ambled through the door, tripping on the leg of Derek’s chair as he tried to take his own seat. Derek glared at him, already fed up having only been there five minutes.

‘Sorry I’m late.’

The Sheriff pushed the research Stiles had done across the desk to Derek and nodded to Stiles to explain.

‘I decided to look back at the research I first did when Peter bit Scott and found some information about the use of silver bullets.’ Stiles began, eyes not looking up from his papers, his voice thin. ‘I looked at the Beast of Gévaudan again and found a new version of the myth that claims that the bullet used was a blessed silver bullet with a personal manufacturing marking on it. It made me wonder if this person could be from a religious cult or family who believe that silver is the only way to kill werewolves. If they are from a cult then they may still believe in the old myths, hence why they’re using silver bullets.’ Derek listened intently while looking over the research Stiles had printed out. Stiles reached over and pointed to a few things. ‘However, some of the myths suggest that silver bullets were used to kill witches and monsters as well. For all we know, this person isn’t targeting werewolves at all.’

‘That would explain why none of you have been hurt yet.’ the Sheriff inserted.

Derek nodded.

‘Did you manage to get the bullet looked at?’ Stiles asked his father.

‘I’ve made some calls and I’m waiting for the forensics team to get back to me. But I wanted to know what you thought of all this, Derek.’

Derek frowned. He wasn’t sure what he thought. If there was a marking on the bullets used then there could be a new family of hunters in town. Derek felt a gloom descend over him at the thought of another Kate Argent. He dreaded the thought of having to battle with another family of crazed hunters who were stuck in the past.

Derek frowned.

‘What if the bullets have no distinguishable markings on them? Then what?’

‘Then we’re dealing with a seemingly average gunman with expensive tastes.’ The Sheriff said with a smirk.

Derek wasn’t amused.

Half an hour later, Derek and Stiles left the station. Derek was still unconvinced by Stiles’ research. A few silver bullets wasn’t enough to suggest that a family of hunters was moving in or a religious maniac was fooled by ancient myths and was shooting random people on the off chance that they might be a supernatural creature.

Derek walked to his car and unlocked the door. He sat behind the wheel and only then noticed Stiles walking towards him. Derek shut the door and wound down the window.

‘Thanks for helping my dad out. I know he’s been struggling with all this.’ Stiles rocked back and forth on his heels, hands clutching the strap of his bag.

Derek shrugged.

‘It’s in my best interest to help.’

Stiles rolled his eyes.

‘Whatever. Thanks. He needs all the help he can get.’

Stiles stood awkwardly next to his car. Derek wasn’t sure if he was going to say something else. He was about to wind up the window and leave when a thought struck him.

‘If you think your father’s having trouble, maybe you should go to the hospital to see Allison. It would give you a chance to speak to her father.’

Stiles face went a little pale and his eyes widened. Derek felt like he’d struck a chord and wondered if he’d been too obvious. He closed the window and drove away, leaving Stiles staring after his car.

xxx

Derek had hardly gotten home when his mobile buzzed. He hoped it wasn’t the Sheriff calling to ask him back to the station again. He pulled his phone from his pocket as he tossed his jacket onto the back of his sofa. He opened the message.

**Stiles:** _I think it would be better if you or Scott went to see Chris Argent._

Derek raised an eyebrow at the message. He wandered if this was Stiles’ way of avoiding seeing Allison. He messaged back.

**Derek:** _Why?_

Derek waited for a reply. Stiles had seen the message and seemed hesitant to reply. Ten minutes later Derek’s phone chimed.

**Stiles:** _You know him better._

Derek frowned. What was Stiles hiding?

**Derek:** _Why don’t you want to visit Allison in the hospital?_

Stiles didn’t reply.


	3. Edge

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!  
> Don't think there is anything to say for this one. I hope you enjoy it.

Saturday, 12th December

Derek still had no reply the next day when the Sheriff called him. He was out on a morning run when his phone rang and he stopped to sit on a park bench while he answered. It turned out that the forensics team had returned the bullets to the station and neither they nor the Sheriff could see any sign of a symbol or marking on any of the bullets.

Derek was relieved but somewhat disappointed that he’d have nothing to occupy his mind with. Apart from the mystery that was Stiles.

He was starting to wonder if Stiles would ever reply to his last text message when, that evening, his phone chimed. It wasn’t what he had expected.

**Stiles:** _Have you been to see her?_

He replied immediately.

**Derek:** _Yes._

Derek’s short answer caused Stiles to pause in his response.

**Stiles:** _Scott says he’s never seen you there._

**Derek:** _He hasn’t._

Another long pause. Derek left his phone on the bed while he went for a shower. When he was done and was towelling off his hair, he picked up his phone. One new message.

**Stiles:** _How is she?_

**Derek:** _In a coma._

**Stiles:** _Thanks for that._ Derek could see Stiles’ eye roll in his mind.

He pulled on a clean v-neck sweater and jeans before flopping down onto the bed and replied.

**Derek:** _Go see how she is for yourself._

The following message took a long time to come.

**Stiles:** _I can’t._

**Derek:** _Why?_

**Stiles:** _I just can’t._

**Derek:** _You’re not a coward so why are you acting like one?_

Harsh but true.

Derek managed to read two chapters of the latest book he was ploughing through before Stiles replied.

**Stiles:** _I can’t explain._

**Derek:** _Try._

Derek shook his head at Stiles’ next message.

**Stiles:** _Thanks again for helping my dad._

xxx

Sunday, 13th December

The next morning, Derek woke to a miserable grey sky and an even more miserable mood. He had something important to do that day and he’d been dreading it all week.

He started the day by driving to the flower shop and buying two simple bunches of tulips. He placed them gently on the passenger seat of his car and drove to the graveyard on the other side of town. Once there, he parked and carried the flowers through the grave stones. He reached the first grave he was looking for and placed one bunch of flowers down. After a few minutes of thought, he walked across the graveyard to the next grave and placed the second bunch down on the cold stone. He crouched down in front of it, hands between his knees.

He was only there a few minutes when his eye caught sight of another figure. They were only a few gravestones in front and Derek watched as they walked away from the grave. It was as they turned around that Derek recognised the slim frame. It was Stiles.

_Fuck sake._

Derek stood up, causing Stiles to jump.

‘Oh my god! You scared the crap out of me!’

‘What are you doing here?’ Derek could hear the irritation in his voice. He had wanted a private moment to himself. The last thing he needed was for a flailing idiot like Stiles to stumble in and ruin it.

Stiles looked a little winded from the shock, standing with his hands on his hips, breathing heavily.

‘Came to see my mom. I brought her some flowers. It’s her anniversary today.’ Derek gave a short nod. Stiles seemed pretty chipper considering it was the anniversary of his mothers’ death. Derek knew how painful it was to watch the years go by since he had last seen his mother, hugged her or heard her loving voice speak his name. ‘Why are you here?’ Stiles asked with a curious frown. Derek looked down at the grave before him. Stiles followed his eyesight and walked around the back of the grave to stand on Derek’s left. Derek could sense Stiles’ surprise. ‘Boyd?’ Derek said nothing. Boyd was one of the only people Derek had felt understood him, since his family died. He was quiet and sensible and didn’t ask prying questions. He was someone Derek could trust. And now he was dead. ‘I didn’t know you came to visit his grave.’

‘He was pack…a friend.’

‘I didn’t know you had any.’ Stiles said with a lopsided grin. His attempts at humour were abysmal. Derek glared at him.

‘You know which of your friends might be in here next?’ Stiles looked suddenly afraid. ‘Allison. Maybe it’s time to see her before it’s too late.’

Stiles sighed and crossed his arms over his chest defensively. He looked away.

‘How did you know?’

‘Scott and Lydia.’

‘They told you?’

‘Not exactly.’ Derek mirrored the teen’s stance. Stiles fiddled awkwardly with the cuffs of his shirt. ‘Visit her. You’ll regret it if you don’t.’

‘I can’t.’ Stiles’ cheeks went pink. Derek could hear Stiles’ heartbeat increasing.

‘Why?’

‘Stop asking me that.’

‘Answer me and I’ll stop.’

‘I just can’t.’

‘You’re feeling guilty?’ Stiles looked up at him in surprise. His mouth opened in a small “o”. ‘I know the feeling.’

‘How?’ Derek raised an eyebrow at him. ‘Oh.’

It was obvious. Everyone knew how Derek had brought a hunter into his family’s lives and she’d set their house on fire, killing almost all of them. Derek had never forgiven himself, especially after what had happened to Paige. And now he had the lives of two teenagers on his shoulders too.

‘You think you’re the reason Allison’s in a coma.’ All Stiles could do was look ashamed. ‘Don’t be an idiot. The Nogitsune had complete control over you.’

This seemed to do little to comfort Stiles who had drawn into himself and looked pathetically small.

‘I can remember everything I did.’

‘It made you do those things. It was the most powerful creature we’ve faced yet. We’re all lucky to be alive, especially you so stop feeling sorry for yourself.’ Derek turned away and looked upon Boyd’s grave again. Stiles had managed to escape with his life and yet here he was, wasting it, moping and avoiding the people who cared about him. It made Derek angry. ‘We almost had to kill you, Stiles.’ Stiles looked away, eyes closing painfully. ‘I asked Chris what he would do if the Nogitsune completely took over your mind. He had no reservations about shooting you.’

‘Maybe he should have.’

Derek didn’t give a response to Stiles’ self-pity. He sighed heavily.

‘Everyone was glad it didn’t come to that in the end.’

‘Everyone?’ Stiles asked, sceptically eyeing Derek. Derek didn’t answer but held Stiles’ gaze. Stiles went a little pink but he refused to look away. He held Derek’s intense stare. Derek was slightly surprised but he didn’t let it show. ‘I can’t just forget about what happened. I can’t pretend that I don’t feel unbelievably guilty.’

‘I’m not asking you to.’ Stiles finally looked away, exasperated. Derek rolled his eyes. Stiles had always been one for dramatics. ‘Allison is dying. She’s been in a coma for weeks. It doesn’t look good.’

‘I know, Derek. You don’t need to remind me.’

Another eye roll.

‘She’s dying. And you blame yourself. What good is that gonna do? When she’s buried here, in the dirt, what good is your guilt going to do?’ Stiles looked horrified at the thought and stepped back. ‘I’ve spent half my life feeling guilty. I still do. I’ve lost almost everyone I cared about. But I don’t mope or moan about it or _cower_ away. You're not the only one who has caused other people to die. I turned Boyd and Erica and now look at them.' Derek pointed at the tomb stone before them. 'They were just kids. And they were _innocent_. I understand how you must be feeling with all those people that you _think_ you killed but you think moping about it is gonna help? I have to live with the decisions I made every single day, knowing that it killed young kids. They died at my hands. The people that you killed died at the hands of the Nogitsune, not you. Count yourself lucky, Stiles. The true guilt of taking a life is unbearable. I've had to live with it every day since I was sixteen years old.'

Stiles seemed unable to find his voice. 

xxx

Stiles said nothing. Derek's words were still echoing in his mind, pulling down at the walls he'd built up around himself over the last few weeks. The weight on his chest that had been crushing his each and every breath since the moment the Nogitsune possessed his body eased a little. He took a deep breath. Stiles looked again over the tombstone and then at Derek who was staring down at it with sorry eyes. Derek knew his pain.

'Is Erica in here too?' he asked, finally. Derek looked at him, eyes still so pained, before looking out over the graveyard to the far right corner. He stared out for a long time. 'And Paige?' His voice was softer this time, almost too afraid to say her name. Derek visibly stiffened and looked down at his feet. Stiles stepped towards Derek silently and as the first few drops of rain splashed off of the cold stone of Boyd's gravestone, Stiles slipped his hand onto Derek’s shoulder and squeezed.

xxx

His short meeting with Derek at the graveyard threw Stiles for the rest of the day. He had planned to spend his Sunday afternoon either in bed watching films or on the sofa watching TV. But Derek’s words had cut deep. For someone he claimed to hate, Stiles had felt astonishingly close to him in that moment when he realised how much they shared. They had both been wounded by death and both carried the weight of guilt on their shoulders. Derek had made Stiles feel a fool. A fool for being so pathetic. His guilt wasn’t helping Allison or her father or her friends. _His_ friends. However, accepting the truth about one’s self-pity and stopping yourself from wallowing in it were two entirely different things. Hence why Stiles found his Sunday plans turned on their head.

Once the rain had become too strong to bear, Derek and Stiles went their separate ways, no word of a goodbye from either of them. Derek had lingered a moment longer than Stiles, a hand resting on top of Boyd’s gravestone. And then he hurriedly made his way to his car and left. Stiles had a feeling that Derek had exposed a few too many emotions for one day. Stiles’ emotional turmoil was clearly reminding Derek of his own. Stiles had left the graveyard just as the rain became almost too heavy to drive in. But with his wipers on high speed, he carefully drove to the last place he had imagined spending his afternoon.

The hospital.

He scanned the car park for anyone he knew. He slid lower behind the dashboard when he spotted Chris Argent’s car but realised that it was vacant. He must already be inside. Although, he doubted Chris had ever left. For a moment he thought he saw Lydia pull up into the car park but it was an elderly woman with the same car. Stiles let out a relieved sigh.

‘What the fuck am I doing?’ He leant back in his seat, strumming his fingers agitatedly on the steering wheel. He had no idea why he’d come here. He had no intention of going inside. He couldn’t face seeing her. Even being this close sent his heart fluttering uncontrollably. ‘Thanks a lot, Derek.’

If Derek hadn’t made him feel so pathetic he wouldn’t be there. He’d be at home, avoiding the place like the plague. Why did Derek care so much anyway? He and Allison were hardly friends. Why was he suddenly playing the good guy and making Stiles look like a jerk? Stiles crossed his arms to stop himself from tapping his fingers irrationally but the nervous twitch simply moved to his toes. His feet tapped against the pedals for twenty minutes while his eyes were fixed solidly on the hospital doors. He thought about getting out of the car, walking to the reception desk and asking for Allison’s room. But then he thought about what would happen after that. When he walked through the hospital to the room where she lay in a coma, her dad sat beside her, fearing the day her body finally gave up or the day he’d have to end her life himself. Stiles imagined sitting beside her, watching her slowly dying. Like he had done his mother.

Stiles felt sick. His mouth filled with hot saliva and his skin went cold. He couldn’t do it. He had known that before he drove to the hospital in the first place. Once he’d calm himself down, he turned on the engine and drove home, afraid that a panic attack might flare up at any moment.

xxx

_A low voice rumbled in his ears. It was haggard and broken, sending chills down his spine. He rolled over in his bed, eyes closed tightly, brow furrowed. The voice continued to speak to him._

_‘Wakey wakey, Stiles. Come see what I’ve got for you.’_

_Stiles opened his tired eyes and pushed himself slowly up. He looked around his room and found nothing. He was hearing voices in his stress._

_‘Look what I have here.’_

_He sat up again and this time found a figure stood at the end of his bed. It was dark in the shadows of the room but Stiles could see its haunting frame trapping him in its gaze._

_‘Who are you?’_

_The figure laughed._

_‘Don’t you recognise me, Stiles? It’s me, you’re old friend.’ The figure moved around the bed towards him and Stiles pulled his legs in closer to his body. ‘I’ve come to see you and I’ve brought a present with me.’_

_Stiles glanced quickly around himself, afraid to let his eyes off the figure for too long._

_‘What is it?’_

_‘You’re really going to like it.’_

_Stiles shivered. The figure’s body temperature was well below normal and the cold was seeping through Stiles’ duvet. It turned around and Stiles followed its gaze. In the far corner of the room, just hidden from the moonlight coming in through the thin curtains, were three more figures. Two were much thicker set than the one perched on his bed and appeared pitch black apart from the glow of their eyes. The form in the middle was much smaller and the light bounced off its pale skin. Stiles leant forward, eyes squinting in the darkness._

_‘Do you know who it is?’ The figure was suddenly at Stiles’ head, its whispered voice sending Stiles into a cold sweat. Stiles shook his head. ‘Come on, you must recognise us all. We spent so much time together.’ Stiles said nothing. He couldn’t piece it together. He felt like his head was under water, as though he just wasn’t close enough to the surface to figure it out. It laughed again and stood from the bed and walked around to the other three figures. It stood in front of the small figure and placed a hand on the pale skin of its cheek. He turned around again and pulled the figure forward. The two larger figures stepped forward too, and Stiles realised that they were holding the small, pale form up. Stiles moved to the end of his bed and peered closer. ‘Look who it is, Stiles. She’s been waiting to see you for a long time. And I’ve been waiting even longer to have her.’ Stiles stood up and walked towards the figure but one of the dark ones push him away. ‘No, Stiles. There’s nothing you can do for her. She’s mine now. The Oni tried to take her then but they failed. She was too strong. But it didn’t last. You neglected her and now she’s mine.’_

_‘A-Allison?’_

_‘That’s right Stiles. Allison’s mine now. Or should I say…ours.’ The figure moved away from Allison’s lifeless body, held between the two Oni, and stepped up towards Stiles. It lifted a bandaged hand to its face and slowly began to unravel yet more dirty dressings that Stiles had only just noticed. He stepped back and inhaled sharply as the soiled material fell away; his own eyes were staring back at him. ‘We killed her together, after all.’_

_Stiles’ vision began to blur. He felt his knees and ankles weaken and his whole body crumple to the floor until he was looking up at a version of himself that was grey and sickly. His own face was smiling down on him, eyes filled with malice._

_‘Allison…’_

xxx

Monday, 14th December

The following day, after school, Stiles found himself outside the hospital again. He parked his car and sat watching the entrance. He saw many people come and go including Lydia and Scott. They didn’t notice him as he’d parked next to one of the ambulances, hidden from clear view. He sighed at their sad expressions and slumped back into his seat. The next day found him, once again, sat outside the hospital, watching and waiting, finding himself becoming more and more miserable. He sat there all night until his father’s shift at work was over. Then he drove home and climbed into bed before his father pulled up into the drive. Then, like every night, he dreamt of the Nogitsune and the Oni holding Allison’s dead body as though it were a piece of meat in a butcher’s shop window. Stiles began to wonder if it would be better not to attempt sleep at all so to avoid the nightmares that drove him to spend all his free time sitting outside the hospital, too afraid to go inside.

xxx

Thursday, 17th December

Derek parked his car down the street from the hospital and walked through the car park to the door. He was about to go inside when something caught his eye. He stopped and glanced over his shoulder. Just beyond the ambulance bay was a beaten up, blue jeep. His wolf senses flared and he sniffed deeply. He knew that smell. He waked back through the car park, around the back of the ambulances and found, sure enough, Stiles’ jeep. Eyebrow raised in surprise, he walked around the car and stood at the driver’s window. Stiles was sat with his elbow up on the window edge, face held in his hand. One leg was draped over the passenger seat, the other tucked up against his chest. In his free hand was a bottle of scotch. Derek rolled his eyes and shook his head. He pulled on the door handle and yanked it open. Stiles, completely taken aback, fell backwards through the gap. His head flopped upside down while his scotch splashed over his jeans.

‘What the hell are you doing?’ Derek snapped. Stiles groaned and tried to pull himself up. Derek growled at his incompetence and gave him a shove upright. ‘Why are you getting drunk in your car?’ Stiles glared at Derek over his shoulder, clutching the bottle to his chest.

‘Leave me alone.’

‘Why are you here?’ Derek tried to pull the bottle from Stiles’ grasp but he turned away, protecting it against himself.

‘I’m busy.’

‘Oh really. Busy getting drunk out of your mind in public?’ Derek sighed again and looked out over the car park. ‘Have you even been in to see her?

Stiles curled in on himself, frowning.

‘I’m busy.’ he repeated.

‘You’re pathetic.’

‘Fuck off, Derek.’ Stiles screwed the lid back on the bottle and tossed it onto the passenger seat. ‘I’m going home.’ He tried to pull his seat belt on but Derek put a hand out to stop him.

‘No way are you driving home in this state. You could kill someone.’

Stiles looked up at Derek with a drunken haze in his eyes and tossed his head back, throwing his hands up.

‘Just add them to the list.’

Derek rolled his eyes again, a common occurrence around Stiles, and pulled him from the jeep. Stiles gave little protest until Derek shut the door of the jeep, locked it with Stiles’ keys and led him towards his own car.

‘Oi, let go of me. I’m going home.’

‘Not like this you’re not.’

Stiles tried to push Derek away but Derek’s werewolf strength was far too much for Stiles to overpower, even when he wasn’t a third of a bottle of scotch down. Derek dragged his flopping body to his car and pushed him into the passenger seat and shut the door. Deciding to abandon his visit to see Allison, he too got into the car.

‘Put your seat belt on.’ Stiles shook his head. ‘Put it on, Stiles.’

‘Make me.’

Derek held back a growl and leant across the boy to buckle him in. Stiles rested his cheek against Derek’s arm while he did it. Derek shook him off in irritation. As he drove towards his loft, he wondered if what he had planned was a good idea.

xxx

Derek made quick work of the bottle top, cracking it off with his claws. He handed the bottle over to Stiles who took it with trepidation.

‘I never thought you’d be supplying me with alcohol.’ Stiles looked the bottle over, having sobered up a little during the car ride home. ‘You always seemed too much of a goody-two-shoes. But this,’ Stiles held up the beer. ‘looks a lot like grooming to me.’

Stiles smirked when Derek closed his eyes in frustration, clearly enjoying messing with Derek despite his current struggle with his emotions.

Typical Stiles; always putting on a front.

‘When I was a kid, and my parents and other family members had just been murdered, this was the only thing I wanted. I was desperate for a way out, for something to take my mind out of reality, just for a short while. But, being a werewolf, I couldn’t get drunk. No matter how much I drank I couldn’t feel it. My body simply reversed the effects of the alcohol before it could enter my blood stream properly.’

As Derek spoke, Stiles sipped from his beer, plump lips curving around the edge of the bottle mouth.

‘So what did you do?’ Stiles asked, lips making a popping sound as they came away from the wet glass.

‘I read. I’d never been much of a reader before, always more interested in sports. But reading allowed me to get away from real life and place my mind somewhere I wanted to be. It was something my sister showed me after Paige died.’ Stiles smiled at him. It was a sad smile, a sorry smile and it made Derek’s stomach churn. He didn’t need or want anyone’s sympathy. ‘But we might as well just get you pissed to shut you up. Get it out of your system.’ He spoke quickly, dismissing the smile. ‘Hopefully this’ll stop you from moping so much.’ Derek said as he lifted another pack of beer from the bag.

Derek had been wrong. Instead of shutting Stiles up, the alcohol only served to amplify him. He was lying half on, half off of one of Derek’s sofas, his third bottle of beer hanging dangerously from limp fingers. He was lying with his head over the armrest, dangling down between his heavy arms. Derek was sat on the opposite sofa, reading his current novel. He ignored most of Stiles’ ramblings but some of them were too loud to go unheard.

‘It should be me. I should be in the hospital. She-she should be fine. I’m the bad one.’ Stiles tried to roll onto his stomach but his heavy head and arms weren’t responding. ‘She’s gonna die because of me.’

‘Shut up, Stiles.’

‘Stiles is a bad person.’

‘He’s certainly irritating, that’s for sure.’ Derek said without looking away from his book. ‘Stop moping. I gave you alcohol to shut you up. Just relax.’

‘How can I be relaxed when I am a bad person? Allison is sick. She’s so sick and I-I-I caused it.’ he stuttered.

‘I’m not going to do this again, Stiles. I’m not pandering to your need for attention and sympathy.’

Stiles gave a strangled cry.

‘You’re so mean to me.’

‘I’m being realistic. It won’t make you feel better if I agree or disagree with you. Nothing is going to make you feel better until you decide to start feeling better. The booze will help you to stop worrying about it. Let the alcohol do its job.’

Half a beer later, Stiles had finally stopped muttering about how he had caused Allison’s injury. He’d moved to the wheeled desk chair where he pushed himself around with his feet. Derek watched him with one eye, still trying to read with the other.

‘I’ve never been this-this _drunk_ before.’ Stiles said sloppily. ‘I hope my dad doesn’t find out. He’d be _sooo_ cross.’

‘Then don’t get caught.’

‘H-how?’

‘Stay at Scott’s house.’

‘Scott?’

‘Yeah, Scott.’

‘What if he’s busy?’

‘Doing what?’

Stiles gave a giddy laugh and pushed the chair closer to where Derek was still sat on the sofa.

‘Maybe he’s with Kira.’ Stiles’ eyebrows were raised suggestively. Derek doubted that Scott would be sleeping with Kira when his first love was comatose in the hospital. He decided against saying so to avoid another tirade of self-pity. ‘Maybe they’re having _sex_.’ Stiles said as though it wasn’t obvious what he had meant.

‘Maybe.’

‘You’re not having sex.’

That one startled Derek, though he didn’t show it.

‘Not right now, no.’

‘You could be.’

Derek finally looked away from his book to stare into Stiles’ drunken eyes. Stiles rolled his chair even closer and leant his cheek on his arms which were resting on the back of the chair.

‘You’re drunk.’

‘I am.’ he giggled.

Derek sighed and put his book down before standing from the sofa.

‘You should go home. I’ll drive you. I’m sure your dad won’t be home from work yet anyway.’ Stiles pushed himself up from the chair but had clearly forgotten about the wheels. The chair went skidding out from underneath him and Derek had to dive forward to stop Stiles from falling to the floor. Stiles’ flailing limbs grabbed onto Derek’s shirt, his legs limp underneath him. Stiles looked up at him, mouth open with ragged breath. ‘Let’s get you home.’

‘Let’s get you home.’ Stiles repeated like a parrot.

‘That’s what I said.’ Stiles giggled again, hands slipping over the muscles in Derek’s back. ‘Stiles?’

Stiles pushed forward, trying to meet Derek’s lips. Derek recoiled and stood Stiles straight, stepping away from him.

‘What’s wrong?’ Stiles asked, his eyes unfocused, his voice husky.

‘What are you trying to do?’

‘Kiss you.’

‘Why?’

Stiles shuffled and shrugged.

‘Maybe I want to.’

Derek lowered Stiles back into the chair and stepped away.

‘What’s gotten into you, Stiles? You’re not even gay.’

‘Do I have to be?’ he asked, hands out to the sides as he gave another large shrug. The beer bottle in his hand almost slipping from his grasp. Derek was amazed he hadn’t already spilt the contents on the floor. ‘I’ve always thought you were attractive but maybe I don’t have to be gay or bi to like you. Maybe I just do.’ He took a wobbly swig from the bottle. ‘Attraction is a very complicated thing.’ He closed one eye, giving Derek what he obviously thought was a poignant look.

‘You’re incredibly insightful for a drunken moron.’

‘Oi, you invited me here!’ Stiles slurred, pointing at him incredulously as he stood up, losing his balance and falling again. Derek sighed, wondering why so much of his life was spent in the company of troublesome teenagers. Stiles looked up at him from the floor, smiling like an idiot. Derek stepped forward to help him back up.

‘Fuck’s sake.’ Derek cursed under his breath. He had no idea what had gotten into the boy. Maybe he was trying to put everything that had happened to him to the back of his mind and this was the only way his drunken mind could think to do it. But Derek wasn’t about to give Stiles what he wanted. ‘Get up and get out. I’m calling you a cab.’

‘Wha-?’

‘You’re going home.’

Fifteen minutes later, a taxi was waiting outside and Derek dragged Stiles’ dejected form down the stairs. Once there, he gave Stiles’ address and paid the driver. Stiles slumped into the seat in the back and seemed to fall asleep almost instantly. Derek watched the car disappear and decided that he’d made the wrong decision. He felt like he’d opened a whole new can of worms.


	4. Focus

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi.  
> Another chapter. It's not so long this time and nothing too exciting happens but things will start moving soon :)  
> I hope you like it!

Friday, 18th December

The ringing of Stiles’ alarm had been highly unwelcome. Groaning, Stiles slammed his hand down on the button and knocked it to the floor. Luckily the fall had knocked out the batteries and the alarm lay silent on his bedroom rug. He pulled the duvet over his head and moaned as the tell tail signs of a hangover washed over him. Slipping one arm out from his cocoon, Stiles fumbled blindly for his phone. His fingers brushed against it and he dragged it into his dark hovel. The bright light when he pressed the home button made him hiss in pain and he abruptly turned the brightness down after unlocking the screen. Once he could look at the screen without blinding himself, Stiles noticed that he’d left his phone open on Derek’s contact. He looked at the last messaged sent between them and his heart seemed to grow a fist and punch him in the ribs. He bolted up, ignoring the spinning in his head and stared, with fuzzy, desperate eyes, at his last message to Derek.

**Stiles:** _sorr y for tyiin kisesing you_

Even with the drunken typos, Stiles could easily read his message and the previous night’s events were clear in his pounding mind.

He'd made a drunken fool of himself at Derek's expense.

Derek had tried to help him and he’d made a pass at him in return.

Derek? Had he ever even thought about Derek that way before? He knew he had with other guys. Danny sometimes, even Scott once, although that thought had been highly disturbing. He guessed Derek must have come to mind at some point. He was an attractive man, after all.

Stiles shook his already spinning head. It wasn’t the time to be considering if Derek Hale was attractive or not. He should have been thinking about why he’d hit on Derek at all when he was supposed to be worrying about Allison. Stiles put his behaviour down to the booze as he'd never acted so outrageously in his life which was saying a lot considering his general antics. Maybe the type of beer Derek had given him hadn't agreed with him and he made a note to avoid it from then on to spare himself further humiliation.

Stiles picked up his phone again and spent an agonising few minutes typing out a message to Derek. Eventually he closed his eyes and hit the send button.

**Stiles:** _I’m sorry for the way I behaved last night. Thank you for getting me home._

He’d never been so humiliated in his life, which was something coming from Stiles. He dropped his phone on the bedside table and pushed himself up to find some painkillers before dressing for school. It was only when he was pulling on his shoes at the front door, head pulsing sickeningly, that his phone chimed with a reply from Derek.

**Derek:** _Just sort yourself out._

Easier said than done.

xxx

Stiles was entirely thankful that it was not only a Friday, but the end of the semester. It was the least horrendous weekday to be hungover, he supposed, and the thought gave him enough energy to make it through the day. Once he had finished his classes and struggled through Lacrosse practice, he would crawl back into bed a die from humiliation. His hangover had begun to dissipate by second period, enabling him some form of focus on the text books on his desk. Scott and Isaac, however, could smell the booze on him and cornered him at lunch.

‘What were you doing last night?’ Scott asked, concern in his dark eyes.

They had Stiles standing up against his locker, no room to slip away and avoid their questioning stares. He sighed.

‘I might have had some of my dad’s scotch.’

‘How much did you have?’ Scott asked accusatively.

‘Just a few glasses.’

‘Yeah, and the rest.’ Isaac scoffed, crossing his arms. ‘You stink.’

‘I do apologise for offending your sensitive nostrils.’ His voice was think with sarcasm.

‘Stop it.’ Scott scowled between the two of them. ‘Stiles, if something is wrong, you can talk to me about it.’

‘I’m fine, Scotty. It was one little slip up. Won’t happen again.’

Isaac blew a disbelieving breath and moved to his own locker to swap his books. Scott continued to stare Stiles down.

‘What about Derek?’

Stiles’ heart lurched in his chest and he was sure Scott must have heard the sudden rapidity of his pulse.

‘What about him?’

‘I dunno, I just thought that maybe if you can’t talk to me, you could try bending Derek’s ear. He’s been through a lot and I know he’s had to deal with…’ Scott looked nervously around himself and hushed his voice. ‘ _killing_ people.’ Scott must have sensed the tension in Stiles’ body at his words as he quickly added; ‘Not that you killed people. I just mean…’ He trailed off and gave Stiles a pained look. ‘Just…talk to someone. Please.’

Stiles curled and uncurled his fingers awkwardly around the rough material of his jeans and nodded once, avoiding Scott’s gaze.

Scott didn’t broach the subject again for the rest of the day and Stiles was not about to tell him that not only had he already spoken with Derek about his concerns but had gotten drunk in his loft and attempted to kiss him.

Stiles continued to worry about it through to lacrosse practice where he found himself in a room full of half-naked men. His gaze drifted more than once to Danny’s lean body, to his hard muscles that made Stiles’ look like blancmange. His interest in men had never really been an issue for Stiles. In fact, he’d hardly ever entertained the thought of other men due to his now dwindling infatuation with Lydia. But with his desire for the fiery redhead slipping away, his mind was more open to the possibility of men. Danny caught him stealing a glance and Stiles blushed furiously and quickly pulled on his kit and headed out to the field.

Many of the team took longer to get onto the benches, unwilling to leave the comfort of the heated changing rooms. Stiles would never had considered the changing rooms to be a place of luxury but it sure beat the chill of their air biting at the exposed skin of his face and ears. Coach shouted to the last few boys who slowly wandered out onto the grass and waved his clipboard into the air.

‘I didn’t ask the principal to swap cross-country for extra lacrosse practice for you slowcoaches to waste my time! The semester isn’t over until you dumbasses prove to me you’re not all completely useless so for God’s sake, don’t drag this out longer than necessary! Get over here, _now_!’ He shook his head in dismay and mumbled under his breath. ‘Should have gone to law school.’

‘But how would we cope without you, Coach?’ Stiles asked with a grin.

‘Shut up, Bilinski.’

Scott chuckled beside him and Stiles laughed along. The short moment reminded Stiles of a time before the supernatural had bombarded them with hardships they were too young and inexperienced to cope with. A time when the only thing they had to worry about was getting off the bench in lacrosse. Now Stiles barely even noticed the ball flying past his face or Coach screaming at him from across the field. The laughter died on his lips. He wished more than anything to bring back those times, the simplistic lives they once lived. He wanted to be a normal teenager. At least as normal as he could be with his natural eccentricities. He had once dreamed of being the star player of their lacrosse team, his dad jumping up and down in the stands, the crowd cheering him on. He had briefly felt the intoxicating joy of such a moment during the game when Jackson nearly died on the field. But his glory had been ripped away from him by Gerard. His reward for winning the game was a beating and watching the girl he loved running back into the arms of the boy who had bullied him for years. The memory of his glorious win had been tainted with the bitter taste of blood. But the desire for such glory was still there, much deeper within him, in a part of his mind where reality was fiction and his entire life was actually a fabrication of his overactive imagination. In that part of his mind he could pretend that lacrosse was still the most important thing to him rather than the unending sense of fear that penetrated every moment of his life.

Stiles forced himself into his dream land where he could give up his mind to the game and push all thoughts of werewolves, the Nogitsune and Allison into the imaginary story he could only pray was a twisted dream. With this renewed frame of mind, Stiles forced himself to focus on practice and not his humiliating encounter with Derek last night. In fact, he forgot everything. His mind was, for the first time in months, clear. The clarity of his thoughts came from his determination to keep his eye on the ball. He didn’t allow himself to lax for even a second. He pushed himself, ran faster, shoved harder, scored with more focus and precision and soon found himself completely immersed in the game. Coach seemed pleased, if it were possible, with his improvement from last practice and slapped him on the back after his second goal.

‘Keep it up, Stilinski. Glad to see you're not a complete sloth.’

‘Thanks, Coach.’

Stiles just wished it were that easy to keep his mind off of Allison, off of the Nogitsune, off of the people he had killed, when he wasn’t charging up and down the field. The physical excursion and rush of energy had allowed him to clear his mind and for a short moment, it was as though everything was back to normal. The relief he felt was so strong that he was disappointed when Coach blew the final whistle and ushered them all back into the changing rooms.

Stiles wondered if he’d finally found a distraction.

 xxx

Saturday, 19th December

Derek heard Scott’s feet pounding on the stairs towards his loft before he looked out the window at the motorbike parked on the road outside. Moments later, there was knocking at the door which Derek had left open for him. Scott peered inside to see Derek doing chin-ups on a metal pipe protruding from the wall.

‘Hey.’ The teenager shuffled inside, shutting the door behind him.

‘What’s up, Scott?’

Scott shrugged and moved to lean against the back of the sofa, watching Derek raise himself up and down.

‘I just thought I’d come over to talk about the shootings.’ Derek glanced over at the teen, interest heightened. ‘No, nothing new. I was just going to say that the Sheriff told me about what’s been going on and asked for my opinion. We both think it’s just a coincidence that this person’s using silver bullets. If they were after us, at least one of us would have been shot already. The case has been passed down to someone else now.’

Derek nodded and dropped down from the bar, wiping the sweat from his brow with a towel.

‘That’s good.’

Scott nodded.

‘I umm…I also wanted to talk about Stiles.’

‘What’s he done now?’ Thoughts of Stiles lying unconscious in a ditch, a bottle of spirit empty beside him, flashed through his head.

‘Nothing. He actually seemed to be doing a little better yesterday. I think he’s actually been taking a leaf out of your book.’ Scott said with a smile, nodding towards the bar. Derek followed his glance and raised a brow. ‘He was really focused at lacrosse practice which I haven’t seen from him since…well, you know.’

Since Allison.

‘Whatever works for him.’ Derek said offhandedly, draping the towel around his neck and opening a bottle of water.

‘Well, the thing is, term’s over now. No more lacrosse. It seems like it could have been a really great outlet for him. But without practice to occupy his thoughts…I just can’t think of what else I can do to help him. I’ve tried talking to him every day but he’s shutting me out. He still refuses to go to the hospital and I’m worried about him. He’s like my brother but he’s hiding his feelings from me.’

Scott stared at the floor as he spoken, hands clenched in fists at his sides.

Derek sighed and took a long sip of water.

‘You can’t force him to get better. He needs to find an outlet for his grief and frustration. He won’t be ready to see her until he’s cleared his mind. Give him time.’

‘Time heals all wounds and that.’ Scott smirked dejectedly.

‘That and if you _push_ him, he’ll break.’

‘I know, but someone needs to get through to him. And I was hoping…it might be you.’

Derek had sensed it coming. He moved to the large table and leant his hands against it, his back to Scott.

He breathed in deeply and exhaled loudly.

‘I’m not going to seek him out. If he wants help, he needs to be the one to make the first step. Otherwise he’ll resent us for trying to force him when he’s not ready.’

Derek half expected Scott to argue but he remained silent. He actually turned to see Scott nodding. The teenager then stood from where he had been leaning against the sofa and moved towards the door. Before he walked through, he thanked Derek for his help. As he went to shut the door behind him, he stopped again.

‘If he comes to you, to talk, please help him. He needs someone and he won’t let it be me.’

Derek nodded curtly and Scott shut the door and was gone.

Derek summarised that Scott must not know about Derek’s last encounter with Stiles. It seemed Stiles was keeping an awful lot from his “brother”.

xxx

Sunday, 20th December

Unsurprisingly, the next day, as Derek made his way to the hospital, he spotted Stiles’ jeep in the parking lot. He pulled up alongside it and wound down the window. Stiles hadn’t seemed to notice him and so Derek leant heavily on his car horn. Stiles, who had been staring out ahead through his windscreen, jumped in his seat, hitting his head on the roof. He held it with both hands and turned to scowl at Derek. After a moment of rubbing his sore head, he too wound down the window on the passenger side.

‘What the hell was that for?’

Derek ignored his question and posed one of his own.

‘You going in today?’ Stiles faced the front again and Derek could smell the sudden change in his mood. ‘Ok.’

Derek turned off the engine of his car and climbed out. Locking the door behind him, he opened the passenger door of Stiles’ jeep and hoped up into the seat.

‘What are you doing?’

‘Sitting in your car.’

Stiles let out an exasperated breath.

‘Fine… _why_?’

‘Instead of answering that, why don’t you tell me more about what’s going on up in here.’ Derek pointed to Stiles’ head, which he was still rubbing, a scowl etched onto his features.

He huffed.

‘I’m fine. Why can’t people just accept that and stop asking me?’

‘Because we all know that’s complete bollocks.’ Stiles balked at Derek’s bluntness. ‘But if you don’t want to talk about it, I won’t ask again.’

Stiles gave him an uncertain look but tilted his head back against the head rest.

‘Thanks.’

‘You do whatever it is you need to do to get through this.’

Stiles smirked, cheek resting on his hand which was propped up against the window.

‘I guess getting blind drunk isn’t the best way to survive hell.’ he said sarcastically, rubbing his tired looking eyes.

Derek looked ahead towards the hospital and repeated the words he had heard so many times during his young life.

‘When you’re going through hell, keep going.’

Stiles looked over at Derek, surprised.

‘Winston Churchill.’ He caught the wolf’s eyes. Derek raised a brow at Stiles’ apparent shock and the boy gave him a watery smile. ‘Kind of like de ja vu, no? Although, minus the scotch.’

‘I think that’s best for everyone.’ They did not need a repeat of the other night.

Stiles buried his face in his hands.

‘Oh God. I’m such an idiot.’

‘I’m not gonna argue with that.’ Stiles let out a laugh from behind his hands and dragged them across his face. ‘Don’t worry about it. You were drunk.’

Stiles peered out from between two fingers.

‘You sure?’

‘Yes. To be honest, I’d rather forget it myself.’

Derek wasn’t sure what to make of Stiles’ response. He covered up his eyes again, held still for a moment before nodding once.

‘Of course.’ He eventually lowered his hands and looked out the window. ‘I can’t believe it’s almost Christmas. And no lacrosse until next semester.’

Derek could hear the disappointment and worry in his voice.

‘If you think that’s your outlet, or your focus point, I can show you other ways to exercise. It’s the endorphins that raise your mood and help you focus on something productive.’

Stiles turned to him, a soft frown.

‘How did you know about that? That I was trying to focus on lacrosse?’

Derek shifted in his seat.

‘Scott.’ Stiles slumped back and cursed under his breath. ‘He’s worried about you.’

‘Yeah, yeah, I know.’

Derek, deciding he’d better get into the hospital before the visitor hours were over, reached for the door handle.

‘If you want my help,’ Derek almost couldn’t believe his own words. ‘just let me know. You can come over whenever.’

Stiles gave a final, hesitant nod and Derek climbed out of the car and made his way to the hospital entrance to listen to another hour of beeping from Allison’s life support machine, the only indication that she was even still alive.


	5. Experimentation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter five :)  
> It's a short one but many of the others are considerably longer.  
> I hope you like it.

Monday, 21st December

Stiles came home from a run through the woods the next day to find his dad bringing all the Christmas decorations down from the loft. They’d gone out the previous night for a Christmas tree and stayed up late to decorate the house but had yet to adorn the tree with handmade trinkets from Stiles’ childhood. Many of them had been made by his mother, miniatures of characters from the Polish storybooks she used to read to him. She had painstakingly made them as a present for him one year, staying up after he’d gone to bed to paint on their little faces, shirts, trousers, shoes and so on. She’d worked full time during the day and played with him when he got home from school, cooked dinner for all three of them, helped him with his homework, washed him and put him to bed. She would read to him every night, without fail. And at the same time she was teaching him Polish, her native tongue, all the while finding time to spend with her husband. She had been a miracle of a women and it was times like this, family holidays, when he missed her most. He knew his father felt the same as he gazed at one of the small wooden figurines with love in his eyes, patting down its cotton wool hair which had, over the years, begun to come unstuck from his otherwise bald head.

However, Stiles could tell his dad was eying him closely. Their relationship had been a little strained since the incident in Derek’s loft, when Chris had tried to kill him. Stiles had often seen the questioning look, the worry in his eyes; he was afraid that the boy he was looking at wasn’t really his son. Stiles tried to reassure him with his naturally goofy smile but the tension between them was still heavy. It didn’t help his already permanent state of unease, the image of Allison’s lifeless body, the Nogitsune and the Oni still frequenting his dreams.

The Sheriff had looked at him oddly when he came home, sweat over his face, jogging bottoms lined with mud.

‘Where have you been?’ he asked with a strained voice, carefully dropping a box onto the sofa with a grunt.

‘On a run.’

‘A run?’ His father leant back, palms holding his spin as he stretched.

‘Yeah.’ Stiles walked out of view to the fridge. His father’s voice carried through the living room.

‘You’ve never been interested in running before.’

Stiles shrugged, his father coming to stand in the kitchen doorway.

In all honesty, Stiles’ couldn’t imagine it becoming a regular occurrence. His attempts to recreate the intense clarity of the lacrosse practice had failed miserably. Instead of giving him a chance to focus his thoughts on pushing himself, on attaining a goal, the peace of the woods, the pounding of his feet on the leaf littered ground, only served to provide a void in which his mind agonised over every action, every tiny detail of the events that had occurred since the beginning of the school year. He’d come home feeling far worse than when he’d set off.

He thought about Derek’s offer the day before. He’d initially internally scoffed at the idea of going to Derek for help. They were so different, so at odds with one another on even the most casual basis that Stiles doubted Derek could offer him any source of outlet or comfort. More likely they’d get on each other’s nerves and leave Stiles feeling even more frustrated. But it was quickly becoming the only option Stiles had left to try. The thought of talking about what had happened over the last few weeks sent a cold sweat over his pale skin and the image of Allison’s lifeless body, being kept alive purely by a machine, was one that he was all too familiar with, albeit from his nightmares. He needed to find a way to relieve the tightening chains around his chest, to channel his emotions that were threatening to boil over and burn everyone in sight.

Stiles moved to the fridge to get a glass of orange juice, taking his phone out of his pocket and hovering his thumb over Derek’s contact on the screen. Maybe Derek hadn’t meant it. After all, he’d made it clear he didn’t want to remember Stiles’ drunken faux pas. He could only imagine how uncomfortable it would be, just the two of them in Derek’s loft. Was Derek just being nice?

Stiles shook his head. Derek didn’t mess around with emotions and false niceties. He didn’t “play nice”. If he said it, he meant it.

Stiles put the carton of juice back in the fridge and with a few large gulps of sweet orange, he sent a short message.

 **Stiles:** _You still ok to help me out?_

xxx

Monday, 21st December

Derek drew the door open with a tug, revealing a sheepish looking Stiles, his hand awkwardly raised as though to knock a second time. With little grace, he went to scratch the back of his head to cover the mistake. He gave a breathy 'hey' although no sound came out. He coughed to clear his throat and mumbled something. Derek watched the array of embarrassed gestures with little amusement on his stony face. He knew very few people who could make a simple hello so painfully awkward in a matter of three seconds. Derek stepped aside, allowing Stiles in before he managed to make an even bigger fool of himself on the landing. Stiles put his head down and walked through the door. Derek slammed it shut behind him and double locked it.

'You trying to keep me here?' Stiles joked, the earlier embarrassment still evident in his furrowed brow which didn't compliment the pained smile he was trying to give. The look was unsettling. Derek scanned the boy up and down. He was wearing loose, grey sweats, a maroon t shirt and an unzipped black hoodie. His trainers were scuffed and stained with years of mud. Above them he could see mismatching socks, one of which had some sort of bug-eyed creature on it. Derek was also wearing sweat pants and a simple, black, sleeveless top but was minus the hoodie and novelty socks.

'You can never be too careful.'

'Isn't being a big, bad wolf enough protection?' Derek slid a final, large bolt across the door and turned to look upon Stiles with a raise brow. 'Guess not.'

'Why tempt fate?' Derek asked rhetorically and swept passed Stiles to where he had only minutes before been working the punching bag that hung from the metal column above them. Stiles swung his arms at his sides, puffing out his cheeks.

'So...' he began as Derek grabbed a pair of boxing gloves and tossed them at Stiles. The teen, unprepared, scrabbled to catch them, grabbing one against his chest, using his chin to hold it against him. The other slipped down his front and was caught between his knees before falling to the floor. 'Sorry.' He picked up the glove and walked towards the bag. He looked at it sceptically. ‘We just gonna go right into it?’

‘You said you needed to clear your mind with something physical. Talking about it isn’t going to help.’

Derek’s voice came out a little gruffer than he was anticipating. Stiles, however, simply nodded and adorned the gloves. Derek moved behind him and placed his hands on Stiles’ shoulders. He moved him to stand in a sideways stance, facing down his left arm. He put his foot between Stiles’ shoes and nudge them further apart to better his balance.

‘You want to aim here.’ He pointed to a spot on the bag in line with Stiles’ eyesight. ‘But when you hit the bag, don’t think about hitting it here. Think about the movement of the bag. It’ll swing away from you and you want the power of your hit to go with it, forcing it back all the way, not just to the surface of the bag.’ Stiles nodded. ‘It doesn’t really matter in this situation but you want to keep your guard up. When you bring your hands back from the bag, bring them up to your face. Keep it blocked by your gloves as though you were protecting yourself from a punch.’

‘Who is gonna be punching me?’

Derek raised a brow. He found himself doing it on a regular basis around Stiles.

‘I’m not sparring with you. Just hit the bag.’ Derek stepped back after readjusting Stiles’ stance a little. The teen tested out the reach of his arms, lining up his sight before pelting the bag with sets of three; right, left, right. ‘Good. Now actually mean it. You’re punching a bag, not a puppy.’ Stiles nodded again and this time hit with more power but the bag swung to the side and his gloved hand skidded off to the right. ‘You’re not focusing on where you want to hit. You can’t just flail your arms like that.’

‘Unless you haven’t noticed, I’m pretty good at flailing.’

Derek ignored the comment, although he did feel the flicker of a smirk tingle at his tight lips. He stepped up to the boy again and held his upper arms from behind.

‘Keep these close to your body, don’t raise them or you’ll lose focus and control.’ Stiles went for the bag again, this time keeping his arms close and scowling with a look of determination. The bag still swayed but he was getting more solid shots than strays. ‘Better. Move your feet. Keep bouncing on them. Don’t get stuck in one position of else you’ll get stiff.’

Stiles loosened his ankles and moved with the bag a little, stepping into his punches and back again when he pulled back for more power. After a while, he stopped and rolled his hands.

‘My wrists are getting sore.’

‘They will do at first. You’ve got to get used to that.’

Stiles shrugged.

‘It’s good, I guess. I like the focus but there are lots of fine details to pay attention to.’

‘Maybe that’ll help keep your mind busy.’

‘I don’t want it busy, I want it to shut up.’

Derek looked at the boy’s dejected face and put his hands on his hips. Stiles bumped his gloved fists together and twisted his lips to the side, gaze fallen to the floor.

‘You want something physically strenuous that’ll clear your mind.’

‘Yeah. I know how to play lacrosse well enough now that it becomes like instinct. All I had to do was feel my body surging with energy and go for it.’

Derek sighed and leant against the table.

‘Maybe you need to do something with other people.’ It was Stiles’ turn to raise a brow.  ‘In lacrosse you were playing with a team so there wasn’t really any time to think about what you were doing. You needed to be wherever your team mates needed you. But until after Christmas you haven’t really got anyone to do that with.’

‘Yep, that’s kinda the problem.’

‘I’d spar with you but like you said, it’d take too long to teach you the skills before you could reap any benefit from fighting me.’

‘That, and you’d kick my ass if I even tried.’ Derek gave him a look that he knew Stiles read as ‘no shit’. ‘Maybe this was a mistake. Sorry. I should go.’ Stiles used the crook of his elbow to remove each glove and went to hand them to Derek. Derek folded his arms over his large chest.

‘You’re not giving up that easy. I’ve only just gotten started.’

Derek took the gloves from him and moved over to a bench and got him to lift some weights. It was simple enough and required little mental effort but wasn’t overly strenuous. Next, they tried circuits which had Stiles heaving breaths and dripping with sweat. Stiles claimed that the constant change of exercise in the circuit helped to keep him focused on the physical exertion but he didn’t feel the same surge of energy that allowed him to empty his mind of thought as he had in lacrosse.

‘How did that feel?’ Derek asked, passing Stiles a bottle of water. They had done two, seven minute circuits and while Stiles’ heart sounded like it was about to burst from his chest, Derek showed no sign of even having lifted a finger. Stiles made an unintelligible sound before gulping down half the bottle. ‘Circuits are tough but they’re easy. It could be just want you’re looking for.’

‘Yeah, maybe.’

‘Maybe?’

Derek didn’t like ‘maybe’. He’d spent so much of his life never knowing what catastrophe would happen next that his mind had become hotwired to achieve certainty and absolute results. At least as much as possible when you lived in a supernatural world. While Stiles’ uncertainty caused Derek no direct harm or worry, he would rather wrap up this little exercise and send Stiles off on his way with a “cure” for his troubles. Derek knew this was a naive outlook on the situation but closure was such an important part of keeping sane that he would try anything to achieve it.

‘I dunno. I guess it could work for now. But it’ll become boring after a while. My mind is so… _noisy_. There is always so much going on in there that it’s hard to keep it at bay and think straight. I need something to knock all of that out and just let me…’ Stiles trailed off, seemingly unable to find the right words.

‘Get some peace?’ Derek offered.

Stiles looked at him with heavy, emotionally exhausted eyes. He nodded.

Derek thought about that look for a long time after Stiles had left, later that evening. It was a look he had become so accustom to seeing in his own reflection. So many years ago now, his life had fallen apart and he was still struggling to find his feet. Some days he felt like he could go on with his everyday routine and be content with the life he had managed to drag out from the wreckage of the last. On other days he struggled to find anything to live for. He wondered so often what the purpose of his life was. To find something to hold onto that would give him the energy to wake up and see the day in something other than complete, empty darkness? Seeing Stiles holding the weight of so much misery on his shoulders was one of the few things that gave Derek a reason to keep going. If he couldn’t live to find happiness for himself, he could live to make sure these kids didn’t face the things he had been through.

‘Whatever exercise you choose,’ Derek continued, drawing himself out of his moment of self-reflection. ‘the afterglow will help. It’ll make you feel better even if the exercise didn’t clear your mind. So even if we don’t find the perfect one for you now, it doesn’t mean you should stop exercising altogether.’

‘I guess spending all day in bed probably doesn’t help lift one’s mood.’ Stiles said with a sorry chuckle.

With a promise that they could continue their experimentation until they found the right one, Derek showed Stiles to the door. His father had called him to come home for dinner, thus ending the day’s session.

‘Thanks for your help. You didn’t have to do this for me.’

Derek shrugged.

‘Scott asked me to.’

‘Ah…right.’

Stiles zipped his hoodie up and lifted the hood over his head. Derek physically felt the cold shift in Stiles’ mood. Nevertheless, Derek opened the heavy set door and moved to let Stiles out.

As Stiles walked towards the stairs, a final look back to Derek and a wave of thanks, the wolf wondered if even he had looked that miserable when he’d held Paige’s lifeless body in his arms.


	6. Baking

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello.  
> Chapter six here. This one is more lighthearted.  
> I hope you enjoy it.

Tuesday, 22nd December

Stiles returned to Derek’s apartment the following morning. He was clad in the same clothes as before but with a different t shirt. The other one had needed a wash after the work out Derek had put him through. He had gone to bed that night, washed and well fed, feeling physically exhausted but good. He felt fresh, as though he’d finally cleared some of the dust and cobwebs from his mind. He slept well too, until he was pulled back down into the demons of his dreams. At least he had managed a good few hours of dreamless sleep before the onslaught of terror had reminded him that he had no right to lay peacefully in his bed when Allison lay all but dead in hers.

Derek was sat on the sofa, a book in his hand. He looked up at Stiles as he came in, having left the door unlocked for him. He made to move towards the door but Stiles locked it for him. Derek gave a single nod before moving over to the sofa again and picking something up. He then threw it over to Stiles who, having learnt from last time, caught it with almost no difficulty. He held out the ball that had just been thrown into his hands and examined it. The white material was darkened with age, the seams coming apart a little, and thread poking out in a few places.

‘You play soccer?’ Stiles asked in surprise.

‘Not really. I just have a soccer ball.’

‘Why?’

‘It was my dad’s. We used to play when I was kid. Laura and Cora too.’

Stiles frowned.

‘But how do you still have it? How was it not burnt with everything else?’

Derek seemed unfazed by the mention of his deceased family and Stiles wondered how much it still affected him. He could only talk from his own experience but the loss of his mother was still a poignant emphasis on his life and always would be.

‘It was left out in the garden. It was one of the only things I have left of my family.’

Stiles held the ball further away from his body, suddenly afraid that his innate clumsiness would result in the most precious item Derek owned being destroyed by a simple, miscalculated touch.

‘We shouldn’t use it then.’

‘Why? Soccer balls are made to be played with, not looked at.’

‘Yeah but-’

Stiles didn’t have a chance to finish as Derek swung a leg up and kicked the ball high into the air from between Stiles’ hands. Stiles watched it fly up into the ceiling and come back down again. He dove out of the way just in time, Derek jumping up to intercept it. The ball bounced off of his foot and onto his knee. He jerked it towards Stiles who toed at it gentle.

‘Just kick it.’

Stiles looked at him cautiously but Derek took no notice and ran for the ball. Stiles managed to turn from him and hurried off to the other side of the room, the ball skidding between his feet. But Derek was hard on his heels and the moment he stopped at the opposite wall to turn around, the ball was gone from his feet. Stiles looked up to see Derek storming back to the other side with it and thus the goals were decided.

The downstairs of Derek’s loft was almost entirely empty save from the table, a couple sofas, a desk chair, which Stiles remembered rolling around on in his drunken state, and the exercise equipment he used on a daily basis. Stiles knew the rest of his belongings were located on the floor above but had yet to be invited up to see exactly where Derek lived. However, Stiles was currently more focused on how Derek was approaching the other side of the room with the ball and hurried after him.

After tackling Derek and failing, Stiles decided to set up some goal posts. He took two cushions from one sofa and tossed them at Derek who went to put them about a metre away from the wall opposite Stiles who was doing the same with two cushions from the other sofa. They then resumed play.

Stiles, as expected, failed to prevent Derek from scoring again and again. He tackled him across the room, back and forth but Derek was faster, stronger and more agile despite his greater size. Stiles expressed his outrage at how unfair it was but Derek simply glowed his werewolf blue eyes at him to remind him that no matter what, Derek was at an advantage. All the same, Stiles fought hard against him and got the ball from him several times. On one occasion, Stiles made a run for goal and was moments for scoring when Derek employed foul play and picked Stiles up into the air by his waist and moved him aside before running off with the ball.

‘Oi! You cheat!’ Stiles roared with laughter as he ran back after Derek and the ball. Derek turned to kick the ball into the air teasingly, a grin spread onto his chiselled face. Stiles felt the air being knocked out of him at the sight but all too soon, Derek was tossing the ball back to him after yet another goal. He picked the ball up and moved to set it on the table, turning to perch against it, suddenly feeling a little winded.

‘How was that then?’ Derek asked, coming to stand beside him.

Stiles heaved a contented sigh.

‘It was fun. I feel good.’

‘Have we found it?’

Stiles looked up at Derek’s open expression. He could see in Derek’s eyes that he was hoping they had finally found something that could help Stiles deal with his problems. Derek wanted to help him, even if it was just because Scott had asked him to. Stiles felt a flutter in his ribcage.

‘Yeah…I guess so.’

After a few moments of silence, Derek took the ball and began another game. Derek, obviously, won again although he gave Stiles a fair few shots on goal. They charged up and down the room, Derek keeping to the rule book this time, until Stiles really was too tired to carry on and went back to the table, leaning one hand against it, fanning himself with the other.

'I still can't believe it's almost Christmas.' he panted. His mind flittered to Chris Argent, alone in a sterile hospital room with his comatose daughter, the only family member he had left. Derek, however, simply shrugged.

'I'm not really one for Christmas.' Derek said, moving around the table, absently running his fingers along the surface.

'You don't like Christmas?' Stiles asked in shock, his childhood memories of Christmases past enough to give him the tingle of excitement and expectation he was becoming too old to indulge in. Despite everything happening in his life, he couldn't help giving into the Christmas glee, even if only with his dad.

'Christmas lost its charm when I realised it meant people forgot my birthday.'

'Wait, are you a Christmas baby?' Stiles asked with a tugging at his lips. Derek scowled in irritation.

'If that's what you call it, yeah.'

Stiles laughed loudly, probably the first time he'd heard the sound so freely in months.

'You, Derek Hale, _sourwolf_ , are a Christmas baby!?'

Derek bristled, clearly uncomfortable divulging such personal information. Stiles stifled any further laughter and the room relaxed into a comfortable silence, despite Derek’s deepening scowl.

‘It doesn’t matter anyway. I'm simply too old for either.'

‘You’re never too old to celebrate Christmas and it’s your _birth_ day. That’s the whole point of a birthday; to celebrate how old you are.’ Derek gave an unconvinced grumble and pushed away from the table. He moved to the sofa and sat down with a heavy sigh. Stiles wondered if that meant his visit was coming to an end although Derek made no suggestion of asking him to leave. Stiles balanced the ball on the table before following Derek’s lead and sitting on the sofa opposite the wolf. ‘I know I shouldn’t really get excited for Christmas. I haven’t really got anything to celebrate, not with everything going on.’

‘You have your father.’ Derek said distantly, his gaze unfocused and off to the distant right. Stiles shuffled awkwardly in his seat. He was used to Derek’s direct stare, the unapologetic scowl that meant he had little time for any nonsense. But he seemed in a far off land, perhaps the land of distant memories where Derek was celebrating Christmas and his birthday with his family, not a care in the world.

‘Yes, I do.’ Stiles was aware of how luckily he really way. At the end of the day, when all seemed unbearably dim, his father was ready with open arms to love him. It was more than could be said for Derek. ‘You shouldn’t spend Christmas and your birthday alone. No one should.’

‘I’ve done it before and I can do it again.’ He was back to his normal self, having returned from his lonely trip down memory lane. ‘I don’t need your sympathy.’ His voice was a little harsher than normal, indicating to Stiles it was time to butt out.

‘Well, and I can’t believe I’m saying this, the offer is there; if you want someone to be with on Christmas, our home is open to you.’

Derek looked as though he was about to decline instantly but he paused, snapping his mouth closed on his instinctive response.

‘Thank you. It’s unnecessary but…thank you.’

Derek looked directly into Stiles’ eyes and gave a single nod. Stiles felt his eyes begin to burn under the held gaze and looked away.

xxx

Wednesday, 23rd December

Despite Derek’s insistence that he didn’t celebrate his birthday, Stiles couldn’t let the matter rest. He mulled over the situation, glad to have something to distract himself from the tirade of messages from Lydia regarding Allison. She had taken to keeping him up to date with any changes in her condition. There had been an increase in brain activity and her heart rate had had a spell of rising and falling in response to physical stimulus but nothing was conclusive. Otherwise, she remained in a permanent state of eerie rest.

Scott, on the other hand, had seemingly given up on trying to drag Stiles to the hospital. He had avoided the subject altogether for which Stiles’ was entirely grateful for. He would go when he was ready. Or so he told himself.

Pushing away any thought of Allison and the terrors of the last semester of school, Stiles grabbed his phone and dialled Scott’s number. He picked up on the tenth ring, Stiles imagining his friend scrabbling around his room in search of the ringing phone, the piercing sound irritating his sensitive wolf ears but his inherently forgetful nature keeping him from remembering where he’d last seen the device in question.

‘Hello?’ he eventually answered, sounding as little flustered.

‘What do you think we should do for Derek’s birthday?’ Stiles dove right in and Scott followed suit.

‘His birthday?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Derek has a birthday?’

‘He might be big and scary but he still has a birthday, Scotty.’

Scott scoffed.

‘Yeah, I know that…it’s just…you don’t think of someone like Derek celebrating, well, _anything_.’

‘Yeah, tell me about it.’ Stiles mumbled, thinking back to their conversation the day before.

‘When is it?’

‘The 25th.’

‘Christmas day?’

‘That would be the one, Scott.’

He heard Scott audibly smirk.

‘I didn’t even know it was his birthday. Kinda last minute isn’t it? And it’s Christmas Day after all. What did you have planned?’

‘I dunno…make him a cake?’

‘I guess. Wait, how do you know when his birthday is and I don’t?’

‘I…I dunno.’ he lied. ‘I guess it just came up at some point.’

‘Right…’ Scott sounded sceptical.

‘Well, whatever, I was thinking of making him a cake tomorrow and taking it round to his place in the afternoon. Then we could both be home again before Christmas Eve gets underway.’

Scott made a humming sound on the other end of the line.

‘Not sure, man.’ He sighed. ‘I told Allison’s dad that I would visit her in the hospital tomorrow afternoon and then Mom wants me to help her prepare the vegetables for Christmas dinner tomorrow evening.’

The mention of Allison’s name made Stiles feel a little edgy and he resisted trying to change Scott’s mind when he knew Allison was involved in his plans.

‘No worries, dude. They both need you more than I do. I’ll call you tomorrow to let you know how horrendously badly the cake goes.’

‘Alright, sure. Good luck!’

‘Thanks, buddy.’

Despite Scott being busy, Stiles was determined to make Derek a presentable birthday cake. If the wolf was so determined to spend not only his birthday but Christmas Day all alone, the least Stiles could do was make sure he had something good to eat. He pondered for a moment on the idea of a steak cake – Derek was a meat eating werewolf after all - but quickly rejected the idea when the thought of steak and icing made him gag.

Early the next morning, he hopped into his jeep and hurried to the nearest food shop which was closing at midday. It was surprisingly busy with people who had forgotten important components of their Christmas Day feast and were praying to find it on the hurriedly emptying shelves. Stiles bypassed the frantic shoppers in the vegetable aisle and scooted around a crying child in a pram to the baking section, located at the back of the shop. The shelves were filled with all types of sugar, flour, chocolate, decorations, baking butter, piping bags and the works. Stiles scanned the shelves, wondering what to buy. He hadn’t actually planned anything so far. He didn’t even have a recipe. Maybe he should have thought of that first. He shook that thought from his mind and decided to just buy the basics and work from there. He picked up a bag of self-raising flour, caster sugar and a stick of baking butter. He then wondered what flavour cake Derek might want. Stiles recalled once asking Derek if he ever ate sweets. Derek had given a noncommittal shrug of the shoulders and simply said; “chocolate”.

‘Chocolate it is then.’

Stiles grabbed several bars of chocolate from the shelf; white, milk and dark. After that was the icing. He wondered if he should simply use more chocolate for the top of the cake. Probably best to keep things simple. He took another two bars. And then he wondered about decoration. Maybe he could plop some Hershey’s kisses on top or some other assorted chocolates. Stiles moved away from the baking aisle to a more general confectionary and found a box of individually wrapped chocolates. He decided they would look good on top and took his items to the cashier who made a joke about liking chocolate too. Stiles smiled back but rolled his eyes when she was counting his changed.

Once his little shopping trip was over, he hurried home and set all the items on the breakfast table. His father had awoken since he had left and was sat on the sofa, sipping a coffee.

‘Morning, kiddo.’ the Sheriff called from the living room.

‘Hey, Dad.’

‘Where have you been?’

‘The shop. Had to get some ingredients.’

‘Ingredients?’ That had the Sheriff out of his seat and coming to inspect what Stiles had purchased. He grimaced at the mountain of chocolate he had bought. ‘I hope you’re not going to eat all of that.’

‘No of course not. Derek is.’

‘Derek? As in, Derek _Hale_?’ Stiles nodded. ‘Why?’

‘His birthday.’

‘Today?’

‘Tomorrow.’

The Sheriff nodded after a brief pause.

‘I didn’t know you two were friendly. You never seemed to get on much.’

Stiles thought about that for a moment. He shrugged.

‘He’s still a person.’

The Sheriff laughed and patted his son’s shoulder.

‘You’re a good kid.’ The Sheriff walked back into the living room, calling over his shoulder to Stiles. ‘Don’t ruin your mother’s kitchen!’

Stiles smiled a little sadly but quickly got to work. He searched the internet for a chocolate cake recipe and ended up combining two. He realised that he probably should have bought some cocoa power to make the sponge chocolate flavour instead of actual chocolate and wondered how to go about the problem. Then he found a recipe that mixed melted chocolate in with the sponge mix. He followed both recipes at the same time, trying to get rough measurements of each ingredient, sure that it wouldn’t make that much of a difference to the taste. When he had a bowl full of delicious chocolate sponge mix, he poured it into two round tins and placed them in the oven. While they were cooking, he melted more chocolate in a bowl and unwrapped the chocolates. By this point, the think smell of chocolate had started to hit Stiles in the back of the throat and he felt a little sick. But he pressed on and when the timer went off, he carefully took out both tins and looked down in pride at his nicely risen chocolate cakes. He left them to cool for twenty minutes, texting Scott a few well angled pictures, before spreading the thickening melted chocolate over the top of one of the cakes. He then placed the other half of the cake on top and covered the top and sides with delicious chocolate. Next came the individual chocolates and it was only then that Stiles’ realised he had forgotten the most important part. The candles.

‘Hey, Dad?’

‘Yeah?’

‘We got any cake candles?’

‘You’re really going all out on this, aren’t you.’ the Sheriff said with a laugh. ‘Umm, try the cupboard above the kettle. Right at the top there should be a box of cake decorations that your mum collected. Might be a few candles in there.’

To Stiles’ delight there were several candles in the box. He wondered how many he should use. It was then that he realised he had no idea how old Derek was. He knew he was in his twenties but exactly how old, he had no clue. He chose the five best preserved candles and placed them neatly at even intervals in a circle in the centre of the cake. By the time he was done, he thought it looked pretty damn good.

‘Did you find any?’ his Dad asked as he came in for a refill of coffee.

‘Yeah, all done. What do you think?’

His dad came to stand behind him and looked at the cake over his shoulder. It looked like diabetes on a plate, but good.

‘My birthday is next month; I hope you put in this much effort for me.’

‘You can have a birthday cake made of carrots and peas.’

‘For god’s sake, Stiles. I’m not old, I’m not fat and I’m in perfect health. Leave it alone!’

Stiles simply laughed his dad out of the kitchen.


	7. And Eat It Too

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all.  
> Thank you for all the lovely comments so far.  
> This chapter is where things start to get steamy. If you don't like sexual content, you won't want to read the second half of this chapter.  
> I hope you like it.

Thursday, 24th December

Late that afternoon, Stiles walked precariously up the long flight of stairs to Derek’s apartment. He had placed the cake on a large plate and covered it with kitchen foil and driven with it buckled into the passenger seat. He had driven so slowly that the old couple walking down the street had kept in line with him for a good ten minutes. They were not the only ones to have given him strange looks. And then he had arrived at Derek’s apartment building to find that the lift was broken. Stiles swore loudly and plodded up the never ending staircase, holding the cake out in front of him, cautiously. When he reached the top, he was ridiculously out of breath and had to put the cake down for a minute while he wiped the sweat off his brow. He decided then that he needed to work out more. Maybe Derek would be up for another round of soccer after trying Stiles’ delicious cake. Picking up the cake again, Stiles walked up to the large siding doors and knocked three times. He then realised that he should have lit the candles so that he could surprise Derek. He pulled off the foil and shoved it in his pocket and pulled out a lighter, flicking it on and lighting each candle. As he struggled with the last one, he heard someone turning a lock in the door and only just managed to light the damn thing before Derek appeared before him.

‘Surprise!’ Derek’s expression seemed not to change from his standard sour scowl although his eyes did widen slightly. ‘Happy birthday!’ Stiles tried again. Nothing. ‘Oh god, it is your birthday tomorrow isn’t it?’

‘Yes.’

Stiles sighed in relief.

‘Good. Well, I made you a cake to celebrate.’ Stiles held out the cake, the flames quivering. One flame went out and Stiles cursed. ‘Goddammit.’ He reached into his pocket for the lighter but Derek simply leant forward and blew out the remaining four candles. Stiles looked at Derek with surprise. For some reason he hadn’t expected Derek to blow them out at all and that fact that he had cooperated without any persistence sent Stiles into stunned silence.

‘Thank you.’

‘Uh…sure. No problem.’

Derek took the cake from Stiles’ hands and walked into the apartment with it. Stiles stared at him as he went.

‘You coming in?’

‘Uh..?’

‘Come in and shut the door.’ Stiles did so, locking it as he had the other day, followed Derek to the table against the window and watched as he took out the five burnt candles. ‘You’re about twenty candles short.’ he said softly with what Stiles could only call a smile. It wasn’t a bright as the one he’d seen the other day but it still managed to draw the breath out of Stiles’ lungs. He’d never known Derek could look happy.

‘Sorry.’

‘Don’t be.’ Derek put the candles down on the table before licking a bit of chocolate off of his thumb. He held Stiles’ intense gaze as he did so. ‘I’ll get a knife, wait here.’

‘A-a knife?’ Stiles asked, dazed.

‘For the cake?’ There was that smile again. It was small but it was there.

‘Oh…’

Stiles waited for Derek to return from the kitchen upstairs, feeling a little foolish. Was Derek making fun of him for having made him a cake? Did guys make other guys cakes? Was that even a thing? Stiles was still pondering the matter when Derek returned with a dangerously sharp knife.

‘Want a piece?’

Stiles nodded dumbly, still unsure if Derek was simply taking the piss. The knife cut through the cake with extreme ease and Stiles’ thoughts were then taken up with a worry that the cake might not be properly cooked. He hadn’t thought to check. Had he just given Derek an under-baked cake? Derek cut a piece out and lifted it up on the side of the blade to Stiles. Stiles inspected it. It looked ok. The sponge might have been a little moist but that must have been the three whole bars of chocolate he’d melted into the mixture. He gingerly took the slice in both hands, chocolate getting everywhere straight away. He waited for Derek to cut his own piece and then there they were, eating cake in front of one another. Eyes held in an awkward stare.

‘No ad eh?’ Stiles mumbled through the thick sponge. The chocolate made his tongue stick to the roof of his mouth.

Derek swallowed his cake before he replied.

‘Not bad at all. I like chocolate.’

‘I know.’

That brought back the smile. Stiles looked intently at that smile, unaware that he was staring with his mouth open, cake still sat half chewed on his tongue.

‘Stiles…’ Derek tapped a finger against his own mouth and Stiles quickly shook his head and continued to eat his cake, heat burning his cheeks. ‘Thanks for the cake. You didn’t have to do that.’

‘It’s ok. I didn’t like the thought of you spending Christmas and your birthday alone with no presents. Didn’t seem fair is all.’ Stiles wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. ‘I know how lonely it can be to live alone; my dad is often not around because of work. But Christmas and your birthday? I can’t imagine.’

Before Stiles realised it, Derek had stepped incredibly close and was only half a foot from him.

‘Thank you.’ His voice was all but a whisper this time. And then the gap between them was gone and Derek’s lips were on his. Stiles didn’t fight the kiss probably because Derek’s touch paralysed him like kanima venom. Derek held Stiles’ head and kissed him deeper. He tiled his head to the side and pushed his tongue into Stiles’ still chocolaty mouth, licking Stiles’ tongue. Stiles’ knees buckled and one of Derek’s strong arms came down instantly to catch him, pulling him back up. Derek continued to kiss him and Stiles began to move against him, flicking his tongue experimentally. This only urged Derek on further who slipped his hands up the back of Stiles’ shirt. The feel of Derek’s hot finger tips on his skin did wonders on Stiles’ body and he had to pull away to gasp a breath. He gave a bewildered laugh.

‘All I did was make you a cake.’

Derek’s response was another searing kiss on Stiles’ swelling lips. Stiles kissed him back and also began to explore Derek’s toned body. He let his fingers wander across his back and then round to his chest where Derek’s six pack was so hard that all the blood from Stiles’ brain drained southwards. Derek’s hands quickly found Stiles’ jeans and unzipped them, fingers tugging at the confining material. Stiles helped to shake the clothes off, never once letting Derek’s lips off of his. But just before Derek pulled down Stiles’ underwear, he pulled away and looked directly into his eyes.

‘You want this?’ Derek asked urgently as though he were desperate for Stiles to say “yes”.

This was a Derek that Stiles had never seen before. A Derek who _needed_ and wanted and Stiles had never imagined himself to be the one to provide those things for him.

‘Yes.’

‘You sure?’

‘Completely.’ No hesitation.

And apparently that was all Derek needed. He pulled down Stiles’ underwear in one swift motion and then Stiles found himself completely on display. But before he even had time to be embarrassed, he was being smothered with another passionate kiss and being forced towards the sofa. They fell onto it as one, Derek landing on top of him. As more of Stiles’ clothing began to disappear, he started to panic and wondered what exactly he had just agreed to. What was it that Derek wanted? He was incredibly horny but he wasn’t sure he was ready to sleep with the man. He worried that Derek would be disappointed or angry if he said anything and so he remind silent. Derek, however, noticed the sudden tense muscles in Stiles’ neck as he kissed along his jaw and pulled away.

‘What’s wrong?’

‘Nothing.’

Derek sat up.

‘I’m not going to continue until you tell me. I’m not going to do anything with you unless I know want this.’

‘I do…’

‘But?’

Stiles grimaced.

‘Five minutes ago this had never crossed my mind.’ He indicated between their close bodies.

‘Never?’ Derek looked down at him with almost disbelieving eyes. Stiles opened his mouth but found no answer. He blushed and pushed Derek away gently, sitting up.

‘This was never an option. We’ve never even liked each other and now…this.’

Derek shrugged.

‘Sex is sex. I can tell you find me attractive. And you’re not entirely unappealing.’

‘Thanks.’ Stiles said dryly.

‘ _And_ ,’ Derek continued. ‘people don’t make cakes like _that_ for guys they’re not interested in.’ Stiles looked over at the abandoned monster of a cake and flushed red again. ‘So don’t tell me this,’ he indicated between them as Stiles had. ‘has never crossed your mind.’

Stiles found himself beaten and felt a little exposed. He marvelled at how well Derek could read parts of his mind that not even he was privy to. He nodded his consent and allowed Derek’s heavy form to swallow him in shadow. Derek gave him a surprisingly soft smile and then slowly began trailing kisses down Stiles’ neck, passed his nipples and down to his abdomen. He said nothing but Stiles sensed that his ears were alert for any sounds of protest. For now, Stiles had none at all.

xxx

The move from sharing an innocent piece of cake to a tumble of limbs on the sofa was one Derek couldn’t fully account for. His mind was racing with need and desire. He had smelt Stiles’ own need before he’d even made it to the door. Something had changed between them since their last meeting and to Derek’s sensitive sense of smell, there was an obvious newfound lust hanging in the air around the boy.

With his mouth marking out the moles on Stiles skin, his cock rose further to attention in his jeans. He sat up and unzipped them, slipping them past his buttocks. He leant forward again and continued to kiss along the pale flesh, down a thigh and back up the inside of his leg where the skin was mesmerizingly soft. He trailed his lips over the even softer skin of Stiles’ member which had Stiles bucking into him. But Derek moved further up to capture his lips in another searing kiss. Stiles grasped at him, pulling him closer, deeper, more. Derek pulled away again, taking Stiles with him. Stiles sat back, spreading his legs wider, giving Derek easy access to everything. Derek breathed heavily, feeling his desire skyrocket at the sight of Stiles so wanting and needy. He took the member in his hand and began rolling it gently in his palm. Stiles groaned and Derek quickened the pace. He used his other hand to cradle his balls, rubbing them with his thumb.

‘Oh fuck… _fuck_.’ Stiles mumbled, head thrown back in pleasure. As he continued to pump with one hand and rub with the other, Derek kissed at Stiles’ neck, nipping at the sensitive skin behind his ear. Stiles reached out and rubbed his hands down Derek’s still clad chest. Stiles made to pull it off and Derek lifted his arms to let him. After that came his jeans and underwear. He let Stiles do the work, examining his body as the pieces of clothing revealed more and more. Stiles licked his lips and swallowed audibly. ‘It’s big.’

Derek held back a laugh and pulled Stiles to him. He held Stiles’ head near his cock and let the boy play around with what he had in front of him. Stiles cautiously took a hold of Derek’s cock and experimented with the shaft. He seemed mesmerised by the bulge in the middle, his long fingers not quite reaching around it.

‘Suck it.’ Derek said curtly.

Stiles’ eyes flickered up to his for a moment of panic but it was soon replaced with hunger. The boy leant forward and pressed his lips against the head. He forced them over and slowly slid closer. Derek could feel his tongue lapping at the underside and let his eyes fall shut. The next few moments were bliss as Stiles tightened the suction in his mouth and push forward and back, continuously. Derek opened his eyes to watch the sordid display and his hips jerked at the sight of Stiles lips stretched over his cock. However, that made Stiles jerk back, spittle flying from his lips to the floor. He coughed heavily and swallowed, wiping his mouth with the sleeve of his shirt. He looked away, mortified. His cheeks went red.

'I'm sorry.'

'Is this the first time you've done this?' Derek asked in a flat voice. Stiles nodded. 'Then you can't expect to be perfect at it. Just relax and it'll happen.'

'You've done it before?'

Derek paused before answering.

'No. But I've had it done to me and I know that all you need to do is relax.'

Stiles nodded, clearly satisfied with this explanation of his wisdom. Derek had indeed never given such pleasure before but knew how it felt and how much it helped when they kept calm. Stiles took a deep breath and was about to try again when he looked back up at Derek's eyes.

'Would you _want_ to do it?'

Derek was somewhat startled but he knew his body language didn't suggest so. He barely moved. However, he found himself looking out across the room, figuring it to be less embarrassing to answer when not looking down into those doe-like eyes.

'I guess. But right now, that’s your job.’

Stiles steadied himself and got right back into the rhythm. Derek would never admit it but Stiles was pretty damn good at it. He made small moaning sounds which vibrated through Derek’s cock, sending shivers of pleasure through his abdomen. Derek held himself back from fucking into Stiles’ mouth but rolled his hips in circles. He let his mind empty, his worries flitter away until there was nothing left to think about other than the heat of Stiles’ mouth. However, it wasn’t long before Stiles’ jaw began to lock and he had to sit back, rubbing the muscles of his face.

‘Don’t worry. We’ll try something else.’

Derek pulled Stiles back up to the sofa and turned to face him. He got Stiles as close as possible, till their dicks were laying side by side and took them into his hand. He urged Stiles to do the same and began jerking them together. Stiles groaned and leant his forehead against Derek’s. Derek didn’t mind and quickened the pace. He reached his free hand around and stroked between Stiles’ cheeks, a finger brushing against his pucker. Stiles groaned again only with more of a gasp. He continued to brush the sensitive spot until Stiles was grabbing onto him, his body going stiff. He too felt his orgasm peaking and soon they were both climaxing. It only took a handful more pumps before they were both dry and Derek let go. Stiles did the same and fell back onto the sofa while Derek moved to get some tissues from the box on the coffee table.

It reminded Derek of his first sexual encounter with Paige. He'd always believed, in his childish naivety, that when you found “the one”, everything would happen naturally; no awkward silences or bashful glances. But it hadn't happened that way with Paige and it wasn't happening now. Not that Derek thought that Stiles was the one. He wasn't in love with Stiles in the slightest. He liked Stiles as a person, he supposed, but he was a guy. Not that he was against gay people. He had no problem with gay people. And it wasn't that he didn't like other men. He didn't really know. And he didn't dislike Stiles. It wasn't that either. Derek felt himself getting flustered with these thoughts and stopped himself abruptly. He then wondered if he'd said any of this out loud. He looked to Stiles who wasn't staring at him as though he'd sprouted a second head so he assumed he was safe. Instead, Stiles looked a little embarrassed.

Derek coughed, handing Stiles a wad of tissues and slumping down onto the sofa as well.

'Was that...okay?'

Stiles looked surprised and nodded briefly.

'Yeah. That's not the problem.'

Derek raised an eyebrow, regaining some sense of his normal, nonchalant self.

'What is?'

'Is this weird?' Stiles asked, wiping at the cum on his stomach and reaching down for his underwear.

Derek had been wondering the same thing. The moment the passion had subsided and they were sat staring at one another, half naked, cum drying on their skin, doubts had come flooding in. But that was surely inevitable when two people, friends even - Derek decided he would have to mull that one over in his mind for a while first - made the step from amicable to sexual. Derek had done so before. He'd slept with women with whom he'd first had friendly acquaintances with but they had never become anything serious. They had purely been about pleasure. For both parties. However, the situation before him was slightly different as he was dealing with a teenage boy who had recently been struggling with emotional trauma.

'I don't see why it should be.' he said finally. That seemed to be enough to ease Stiles' mind and he gave a short nod and stood from the sofa. He was fully dressed in minutes and stood awkwardly, clearly wanting to leave. ‘I think it might be best to forget about it.’ Derek stood, having cleaned himself up, and pulled his clothes back on, making sure his features were schooled into indifference.

'Oh.’ Stiles gripped his jacket in his hand, seemingly unsure what to do. ‘Well, I should really get home. My dad will wonder where I am.' Derek nodded. 'Thanks for...umm.' Stiles trailed off and look decidedly away from Derek's gaze.

'Thanks for the cake.'

'Nah, it was no problem. Glad you liked it. When you're done with the plate you can just drop it round at my house. Or I could come pick it up. You know what, just keep it, yeah? Whatever.'

He pulled on his jacket and hurried to the door. He didn’t give Derek a chance to speak again before unlocking it and slipping through the gap.

At the slam of the heavy metal door in its frame, Derek felt as though he may have just made things worse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just want to clarify that Derek is in no way forcing Stiles. He can be brash and blunt but Stiles is 100% on board. I just didn't want anyone to read this the wrong way. I do not condone that sort of behaviour.


	8. Christmas

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter eight here.  
> I hope people don't think badly of Derek for being cold and brash. That's how he is in the TV show, after all. But he is kind really. He just needs a bit more time to show it ;)  
> Please enjoy.

Friday, 25th December

Derek woke slowly, the glimmer of a smile on his lips, an indication of the sweet dreams he'd been indulging in all morning. He wiped the smile off with a reminder that it was never safe to be too happy. You never knew when someone would come along and take away everything you had to be happy about. Derek had learnt the hard way that it was best to avoid such things and to save yourself the pain that would undoubtedly follow when it was taken away.

And yet, when Derek's alarm, the rising sun, tried to raise him from his sleep, disturbing the utopia of this dreams, he rolled over, slamming his pillow over his head to allow the wash of pleasure drag him back into the world of intangible desires and inane thoughts. The subject of his dreams was perhaps the more bizarre of that mornings’ events but in his morning daze, induced by the lull of a husky voice and the soft touches of nimble fingers, Derek thought little of it until he was in the shower an hour or so later.

The embarrassment over such a realisation didn't enter Derek's mind. He'd been through too much, seen to many things before his time and made enough mistakes in his life to worry himself with something so naive as “embarrassment”. He'd leave that to the teenagers that plagued his life and occupied far too much of his time. One teenager in particular, already in his mind, made a stronger surge to the forefront of his thoughts. He supposed Stiles was probably embarrassed enough for the two of them, so much so that Derek's lack of concern over the matter was a moot point.

Stepping back into his bedroom, hips adorned with a towel, he checked his phone for messages, expecting one from Scott. After Stiles had left, Scott had texted Derek about another shooting that had occurred earlier that afternoon and he wanted to have a pack meeting to discuss it. As a True Alpha it was hard to resist giving into Scott’s dominance even though Derek had yet to fully consider himself a beta under Scott’s guidance. He maintained a surface belief that his pride wouldn't allow him to be outranked by a child but his inner demons poked irritably at the truth. It was hard to leave behind the pack he had grown up with and the pack he had tried to build out of the ashes of the last. To give in to Scott was to admit defeat.

He found his screen blank. No new messages. A single eyebrow quirked up a notch. Nothing from Stiles. Derek glanced at the time at the top of the screen.

9:02 am.

Stiles should be awake and enjoying the Christmas festivities already.

Derek hurriedly put the phone down and continued on his daily routine. His concern over the lack of communication from Stiles was upsetting his nonchalant attitude over the situation. Things happen and sometimes it was best just to let the aftermath play out. Derek had been the one to make it clear that it had been a onetime thing, that it wasn’t something they should have indulged in considering Stiles’ state of mind, not to mention the age gap between them. It would be easier on both Derek and Stiles to forget anything had happened. Not that Derek cared. If Stiles was embarrassed and they never spoke about it again, all the better, as far as Derek was concerned.

However, Derek's plan to allow the memory of Stiles' legs wrapped around his waist, tongue plunging desperately into his mouth, was abruptly slashed when his phone chimed later that morning.

10:33 am.

**Stiles:** _Merry Christmas and Happy Birthday! Thanks for last night. It really helped to keep my mind off of things._

Both of Derek's eyebrows made a leap of surprise, nearly vanishing into his hairline. He had not expected that. Then again, Stiles has always been something of an enigma, always defying the odds and never conforming to convention.

**Derek:** _It's fine_. _Merry Christmas, Stiles._

Derek quickly sent his reply and set his phone down, leaving things at that. But it chimed again as he got back into the rhythm of his sit ups.

**Stiles:** _It was a good distraction I guess. I hope I didn't take up too much of your time_.

Derek rolled his eyes at the casual insinuation of the text, as though their tryst last night had been a simple inconvenience to Derek, like stopping someone to ask for directions when they were clearly in a hurry. He sent the same response.

**Derek:** _It's fine_.

Derek shouldn't have been so naive to think that would be the end of this little conversation. Almost as soon as the message had sent, the telltale three little dots began to dance at the bottom of the screen. Derek waited for the message before getting back to his sit ups.

**Stiles:** _I guess it wasn't something you expected to happen! I won't tell anyone about it. I kinda don’t want anyone to know._

Before Derek could finish reading the message, another one popped up, decidedly more urgent.

**Stiles:** _Not that I didn't enjoy it. Or you. I meant it was great. You're great_.

And again.

**Stiles:** _I meant you were great. Last night._

And again.

**Stiles:** _And as a person. I guess_.

Before the tirade could continue, Derek sent what he hoped would end the babble that was assaulting him through his screen.

**Derek:** _Aren't you meant to be with you dad?_

**Stiles:** _Oh, yeah. I am, but he’s busy trying to piece together the helicopter I got for him. It’s a bit of a joke really but I’m sure it’s far more entertaining to watch him try to read the instructions without his glasses than actually fly it. He refuses to wear them because…_

There was the idle chatter he was used to. The message went on a little longer about how Stiles was trying to force the glasses onto his father’s face but Derek only glanced over the frenzy of words and closed the screen. The dejected look on Stiles’ face when he had left Derek’s loft the day before seemed altogether forgotten and Derek wondered if he hadn’t been clear enough when he’d told Stiles to forget about their tryst.

xxx

Friday, 25th December

‘Stiles, would you hurry up!’

‘I’m coming! I just can’t find my jumper!’ he shouted down the stairs in response.

‘That’s probably because I’m holding it for you!’ his dad called back.

Stiles left his room and lolloped down the stairs. He took the jumper from his dad’s hands and flung it over his shoulder. He then picked up one of the bags of presents they were taking over to the McCall’s and made for the door.

Their morning had been spent just father and son, opening presents and drinking mulled wine even though they both hated it. It was a tradition his mother had instilled in them and they hadn’t the heart to give it up and so the token bottle of mulled wine always found its way, albeit grudgingly, onto the Christmas shopping list. However, their afternoon would be spent with the McCall’s having Christmas dinner and chucking back eggnog, anther insufferable seasonal drink that was a “must do” even though Stiles was sure not a single person on the planet could stomach the stuff.

They bundled their bags into the back of Stiles’ jeep and set off. They had chosen to take Stiles’ car so that his dad could drink at dinner. Chances were they would probably end up spending the night at the McCall’s anyway. They had a habit of staying up so late and drinking so much over a game of Scrabble or Monopoly that they were too tired and out of sorts to drive home. Stiles bunked with Scott while his dad took the spare room. Stiles knew he’d never become too old to share a bed with his best friend. It didn’t matter that as the years had gone by the space they had to share had gotten smaller and smaller, limbs tangling and shoving one another onto the floor several times during the night. They were best friends and had been through far worse than a sleepless night with someone else’s arm draped across their face.

When they reached the McCall residence, Scott was already hanging out the door, waving with a big grin on his face. Stiles pulled up behind Melissa’s car and helped his dad bring all the goodies inside. They wished each other a Merry Christmas and more mulled wine was passed around. Stiles held his glass at a distance, the sickly smell drying the back of his throat. He asked after Isaac who was still living with them but Scott gave an odd look. It meant he was with Allison. Stiles quickly busied himself with a sip of mulled wine and winced.

While the others chatted merrily, Stiles pulled his phone from his pocket with his free hand and turned on the screen. Nothing. Derek hadn’t replied to his last message about his dad’s new helicopter. Stiles wasn’t surprised. After the way he had left Derek’s loft the day before, Derek insisting that they forget about what had happened, Stiles had tried to revert back to some semblance of their previous relationship; one of cold indifference on Derek’s part and idle chatter  from Stiles. It was the best thing to do, for both of them. Stiles was in no right state of mind to begin sleeping with someone, especially not Derek. It had been a blip, a small bump in the chaotic, pothole-filled road of Stiles’ life. He slipped his phone back into his pocket to re-join the conversation.

Over dinner they discusses school and lacrosse, the Sheriff’s latest cases, which he insisted she shouldn’t tell them about but did so anyway, and Melissa’s shifts at the hospital. Stiles tensed at the mention of the hospital and sensed Scott nudging his mum under the table. She smiled and quickly change the subject. The rest of the meal went by with little trouble, apart from Scott spilling the gravy over the table cloth. The meal was followed by lounging on the sofas, drinking wine and arguing over which board game to play. Scott and Stiles fought from Monopoly or Twister – the thought of their parents getting tangled on the Twister mat sending them both into hysterics – while the Sheriff and Melissa tried to insist on a much calmer game of Scrabble. The boys won in the end but spared them the grief of struggling through Twister and dragged out the Monopoly board. That only caused yet more arguing over who got which playing piece. The game itself was also rife with squabbles over money and Stiles soon found himself scrounging off his dad, all his money lost in an odd array of properties and forgetting to charge people when they landed on his squares.

‘Stiles, how are you doing so badly?!’ Scott cried with a laugh. ‘You usually beat me, hands down.’

‘Hmm…oh! Yeah, guess you’re finally getting the better of me.’ Stiles had the dice dropped into his hand and he looked at the board in surprise. He could have sworn he had only just rolled. ‘Is it my go already?’

They all nodded and Stiles complied, getting seven. He picked up his piece and began to move it when his dad smacked it playfully out of his hand.

‘That’s my piece, Stiles. You’re the hat.’

‘Oh, sorry.’ He put the piece back and moved his own.

‘You alright?’ his dad asked him, eyeing him closely.

‘Yeah, I’m good. Sorry, my mind is just…elsewhere. Must be the wine.’ He’d had two glasses since dinner already, having quickly decided with Melissa and Scott that they would spend the night. However, he felt almost no affect from it yet. In reality, his mind was plagued with conflicting thoughts that had him unable to focus on the game in front of him, despite Monopoly being one of his favourite things about Christmas.

Part of the problem was the inevitable. The thought of Allison and her father, all alone in the hospital on what was meant to be the most joyous day of the year, had his gut churning. He shouldn’t be allowed to celebrate when they couldn’t. But on the other side of the equation, somehow weighing even heavier in his mind, was Derek. He too was alone on Christmas, and his birthday to boot. He was, albeit reluctantly, a kind person who didn’t deserve the pain he had suffered. And yet, Stiles, the most fortunate of the three, was sat, with the people he loved most on Earth, feeling sorry for himself. He was pathetic.

Later that night, lying in bed, his best friend snoring beside him, Stiles thought of Derek again. Was he also in bed, struggling to fall asleep, his mind racing, conflicted and throbbing? Or had he come to terms with the pain he had been dealt? Was he able to appreciate what he had in the face of something much, much worse? And how was he able to help Stiles when he himself had so many demons to battle? Stiles’ mind recalled their activities the previous day. Had that been Derek’s outlet? Had their fleeting moments of passion been Derek’s way of relieving the pressures placed on him? Perhaps that could explain his sudden dismissal of what they had just done; he wanted to maintain a sense of self control. Stiles found he didn’t mind the thought of having been Derek’s outlet for his suffering. If Derek felt anything like Stiles did right now, he would do anything he could to take away even the smallest fraction of his pain.

As his mind continued to replay the scene, he rolled over, away from Scott. He pictured Derek’s large hands, rough but gentle, his plump lips and toned muscles. It had been unbelievably exciting, even if a little embarrassing. He’d felt incredibly inexperienced under Derek’s firm body, unsure where to touch, what to do, what to say. There turned out to be very little opportunity to say very much at all as Stiles’ mouth found itself occupied for the most part. Stiles shifted uncomfortably in the bed. His boxers were becoming a little tight as the memories continued to flood his thoughts. He rolled onto his back again to relieve some of the pressure but the brushing of the duvet against his clothed member only served to ignite further excitement. He groaned in frustration and tried to relax. He breathed deeply and let his mind drift away. But it drifted straight into Derek’s loft where a firm body lay on the sofa, hands exploring avidly. Stiles’ hips bucked on instinct and his eyes flung open again. He cursed under his breath and pushed himself up and out of the bed. He padded down the corridor to the bathroom where he squinted at the bright light as he hit the switch. Locking the door behind him, he perched on the toilet seat and released his cock from its confines. He sighed in tired relief as he took it into his hand and began pumping it slowly. Stiles let his mind continue to explore Derek’s body and he moaned deep in his throat, hoping everyone was sleeping soundly or else this would be hard to explain. He used one hand to steady himself against the edge of the bath as he leant forward, quickening the pace. He could feel the pleasure building in his abdomen, burning and swelling. He thought of Derek’s dick, pulsing and dripping and had to bite his lip hard to stop from crying out as he came in heavy spurts. He let the cum cover his hand and slowly squeezed out every last drop of orgasm before grabbing some tissue with his clean hand and mopping himself up. He’d need a shower first thing in the morning of else Scott would smell his nightly activity on him when he woke.

Once he had tidied his mess, Stiles tiptoed back to bed and slipped beneath the covers. His mind was fuzzy and content and he found himself slipping into sleep almost instantly. He sighed contentedly as he let his eyes fall shut, Derek’s face etched into his eyelids.


	9. White

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!  
> This chapter is quite sexually explicit so if you don't like that sort of thing, don't read.  
> There is a little angst in this chapter as well but have faith that it will all be ok in the end :)  
> I hope you enjoy.

Monday, 29th December

A few days after his birthday, the cake Stiles had made almost completely gone – it was a damn good cake – Derek found his home invaded by teenagers once more. Scott, Kira, Lydia, Isaac and of course, Stiles, were all taking up room on his sofas, chatting between themselves. Derek stood near the window, keeping his distance from the group, feeling suddenly very old. Stiles caught his eye briefly as he looked over the group of teens. He kept an indifferent scowl etched onto his face.

‘Ok, let’s get this started.’ Scott said over the chatter. They all stopped and turned to him as he stood up. ‘There have been more shootings and I think we need to talk about them.’

‘I thought Stiles’ dad said there was nothing to indicate that the shootings were anything to do with us?’ Kira asked nervously.

‘Well, I thought so too, as did Derek.’ They all looked over to him at Scott’s words. Derek noticed Stiles’ gaze lingering. ‘But something doesn’t feel right. These shootings seem to be for nothing. They aren’t killing people, no one is getting mugged or raped or anything.’

‘Don’t sound so disappointed.’ Stiles mumbled. Scott shot him a look and Stiles raised a hand in apology.

‘If this is just an ordinary criminal, they would be _doing_ something to their victims other than just shooting them at random.’

‘It’s not random though, is it?’ Lydia said smoothly. ‘They’ve all been guys who fit your description, Scott.’

‘Exactly. That’s my point; there has to be something more to this than we first thought.’

‘And the silver bullets. What’s that about?’ Kira asked with wide eyes. ‘If they’re after werewolves, how do they not know that silver won’t affect you?’

‘I don’t know.’ Scott sighed.

‘Sooo we’re dealing with a crazed lunatic?’ Lydia mused, lips pouted and fingers twirling in her hair. ‘Great! As if we haven’t already had our fair share of those.’

‘Well, it could be, yeah. In which case, I’m not too worried. If they don’t know what they’re doing, they’ll get caught before they can hurt us.’ Scott said before turning to look at Stiles. ‘Has your dad said anything else about it?’

Stiles, who had moved to stand behind Lydia on the sofa, shrugged.

‘Not really. But he’s passed the case onto a new deputy at the station so it can’t be a top priority or else he’d still be working on it himself.’

‘How is a crazy maniac with a gun not a top priority?’ Isaac asked, bitterly.

‘Without any conclusive evidence they can’t do anything about it, asshole.’ Stiles spat back, defending his father wholeheartedly.

‘Ok, calm down.’ Scott said, putting his hands up.

‘Someone’s gotta talk to Mr Argent.’ Lydia said, tossing her hair over her shoulder. ‘I don’t know why we’re wasting our time talking about this when we know nothing. He’s the only one who knows anything about guns and hunters.’

‘Don’t you think it’s a little insensitive?’ Isaac asked from his perch on the back of the sofa.

Lydia shrugged.

‘Of course it is. But don’t you think he’d rather know about all of this than be kept in the dark?’

‘We don’t need to get him involved in this.’ Scott said decisively. ‘He’s already been through too much.’

‘Hunters? You think it’s another hunter family?’ Derek asked. They all looked to him in surprise, as if they had forgotten he was there, despite it being his living room they had all congregated in.

Lydia rolled her eyes.

‘Well they’re using guns as a weapon and I’m pretty sure most supernatural creatures don’t use guns.’

Derek gave her a hard look, head turned slightly as he sighed heavily through his nose. He unfolded his arms and walked around the back of the sofa where Isaac hunched over and stood beside Scott.

‘This started as a single lunatic and now we’re considering another hunter family?’ he looked to Scott, waiting for his thoughts. He might have trouble accepting that Scott was his superior but he still deeply respected him as a fellow wolf.

‘It did cross my mind.’

‘It can’t be.’ Derek said, more to himself than anyone in the room. ‘If it were a hunter family, they would have made themselves known already. They’d be trying to force us out of Beacon Hills but so far all they’ve done is shoot some random people.’

‘Yeah, maybe we’re jumping to conclusions.’ Kira suggested.

‘Well, we won’t get anywhere until we ask-’

‘Lydia, stop it.’

‘I’m sorry, but so far I’m the only one who’s suggested anything helpful!’

‘We can’t bring him into this. It’s not fair on him!’

‘She’s right.’ Derek looked away from Scott and Lydia, who had been getting more frustrated at one another, and up at Stiles across the sofas. His eyes were downcast and he looked a little pained as he spoke. ‘Lydia’s right. We need to talk to Mr Argent. If he doesn’t recognise the use of silver bullets as any hunter family he’s come across, we can forget about it.’

‘Finally, Stiles is talking some sense.’ Lydia said exasperatedly. Derek noticed Stiles’ shooting a glare to the back of her head. ‘Now the rest of you can agree with us and we can wrap this up.’

Scott threw his head back in frustration and Kira went to stand with him, resting a hand on his chest which he took in his own. Isaac slipped off the sofa and paced around with his hands in his pockets.

‘If he’s the only one who knows anything, I guess we don’t have a choice.’ he said, looking to Derek who paused before nodding.

‘It seems that way.’

‘Kira?’

Kira turned to Lydia and back to Scott.

‘I’m sorry but what choice do we have?’

Scott frowned but nodded.

‘Good.’ Lydia stood from the sofa. ‘Now that we’ve finally come to a sensible agreement, I’m off to see Allison. Her hair is in dire need of curling.’ Derek scoffed, receiving a glower from the redhead. Derek supposed he shouldn’t judge the way other people dealt with their grief. Before she left, she turned back to the room. ‘Stiles? You want to join me?’  Stiles shuffled on the spot and looked away from her. ‘Fine. I guess you still need a little more time to stop being such a selfish prick.’ And with that, she stormed from the room, leaving the door gaping open.

Stiles visibly shrunk in on himself, the others looking at him awkwardly from across the room.

‘Ok, off you go, we’re done here.’ Derek ushered them all out the door, save from Stiles who was rooted to the spot with shame.

‘Wait, what about-’ Scott began.

‘I’ll sort it.’ Derek interrupted, fixing Scott with a reassuring look.

Scott bit his lip but allowed Kira to lead him away by the hand. Derek shut the door behind them and locked it. he turned back to see Stiles still fixed in place.

'You're not gonna go do something stupid, are you?'

'Well, you've locked the door.' Stiles said with a shaky laugh, trying to make a joke out of his obvious despair.

'You ok?'

Stiles nodded and then shook his head. Derek could see his chest rising and falling at a steadily increasing rate. Derek moved towards him but Stiles put his hand up.

'No-' he gasped. He stumbled as his knees gave out under him and Derek surged forward to grab him under the arms. Stiles leant his weight on Derek and allowed himself to be moved to the sofa. But instead of sitting on the offered seat, he sunk to the floor, leaning his back against it. His head fell forward into his frantic arms which fought Derek away. Derek could hear his heart beat leaping wildly and felt his own picking up pace as he stood, completely at a loss for what to do. He knelt beside the boy, hesitantly raising a hand to his shoulder which shook under his touch.

‘Stiles, I can’t help you if you don’t let me.’ Stiles shook him off again and gasped for breath. His face was going pink, his chest clenched. ‘Just breathe, Stiles. Just let it go.’ Frightened tears began to spill down his cheeks as he rocked and grasped frantically around the material of his shirt. Derek looked to his quivering fingers around the cotton and reached forward, ripping the shirt open to give Stiles the feeling that it was easier to breathe. It helped, momentarily, as he let out the breath he’d been holding and allowed himself a few shallow intakes. ‘Stiles, look at me. _Look_ at me.’ Derek grabbed Stiles’ chin and forced his gaze. ‘The sooner you start breathing normally, the sooner it’ll stop. Just look at me and _breathe_. It’s ok, I’m here.’

Eventually, with his eyes fixed on Derek as though he were the only thing keeping him together, Stiles’ breathing began to steady and his body relaxed. Derek let go of his chin and he fell back against the sofa, arms holding his legs close to his exposed chest.

‘Fuck…’ Stiles panted, eyes looking unfocused.

‘You ok?’

Stiles nodded and Derek stood, offering a hand to the teen. Stiles refused, remaining in a huddled position on the floor. Derek moved over to the table where he had a bottle of water from his weight training earlier in the day and offered it to him. Stiles took it with still shaking hands and cautiously took a sip.

‘Thanks.’

‘It’s fine.’ Derek sat on the edge of the sofa, hands hanging between his knees. ‘What happened there?’

Stiles let his head fall back till it hit the sofa.

‘Just the realisation that all my greatest fears are coming true.’

‘And what would those be?’

‘That all my friends will hate me for what I’ve done and leave me.’

Derek sighed, rubbing a finger between his tired eyes.

‘She didn’t mean it.’

‘She did. Lydia doesn’t mince words. And it won’t be long until Scott sees it too.’

‘Sees what?’

Stiles brought his knees even closer, forehead coming forward to touch his jeans.

‘That I’m the cause of all this, that I’m not worth his friendship. That I…I…’ Stiles broke off as his body shook with silent sobs. His chest heaved and tears scattered down his cheeks once again. He buried his face in his hands and howled with sorrow. Derek’s own chest lurched in sympathy. It hadn’t been that long since he too had sobbed and screamed over the loss of the ones he loved most.

‘You can’t keep doing this to yourself, Stiles. You’re gonna break.’

‘I’m a-already b-b-broken.’

Derek pushed himself off the sofa and sat beside Stiles, elbow propped up on one bent knee.

‘You might feel it but there’s a way out. You’ve got to use your outlet. You’ve got to keep active to keep these thoughts away. Lydia is only taking her frustration out on you because she’s also trying to find a way to cope.’

‘I c-can’t.’

‘Not while sobbing like a child, you can’t. You need to get up and work off some of this energy. Use soccer, or boxing, or running or whatever it is that gives you peace of mind, even if it’s only for five minutes.’

‘It’s not enough.’ Stiles said, his voice clearer, the tears stilling. ‘I need more.’

‘More?’

‘I…I need what you have.’ Derek raised a brow but before he could press for more explanation, Stiles was in his lap, pressing their chests together and forcing his tongue into Derek’s mouth. He kissed him deeply, desperately and pulled away. ‘I need this.’

Derek tried to push him away but he was surprisingly strong and Derek didn’t want to force him off when he was so emotionally fragile.

‘You’re not thinking straight.’

‘I am. I am now. I know I want this. I know that this will help me forget. It helped you.’

‘What?’

‘The other day. I could feel it. You finally let go and relaxed and I want the same now. It felt so good and for those few moments I could breathe again. I could stop thinking and just _be_. Please Derek. Anything, do anything to me. Just make me forget. Please…’ Stiles pressed his forehead against Derek’s, eyes closed tight. He spoke in just a whisper. ‘…make me forget.’

And Stiles kissed him again, wrapping his arms around Derek’s neck, rolling his hips forwards and begging him with his pitiful moans. Derek felt his inhibitions leaving his body, his mind turning to pulp. He knew Stiles was right. He had always been physical and used his body to alleviate the demons of his mind. The only time he had found any other comfort for his pain was reading but he’d soon found out that while a book could provide an escape route, the written word would only take you so far. Sometimes the physicality of life was the only true release. That brief encounter with Stiles had given him the peace he kept promising to Stiles and he knew that if he could give the boy just a few moments of that serenity, he would. And with his conscious thoughts already being numbed by the pulsing of his blood in his ears, he gave in to Stiles’ desperate touches.

xxx

The blinding panic in Stiles' mind had boiled over to the edge and he felt the darkness seeping in over his eyes. He could hear Derek's voice calling out to him but the drumming of blood in his ears made it almost impossible to understand what he was saying. The time in which he was struggling to breathe seemed like an eternity and he feared he might never breathe again. He suddenly found himself on the floor, Derek kneeling beside him. He could tell Derek's face was close but it was blurred and black spots were growing around the edge of his vision. He forced himself to focus on Derek's voice when he'd felt his face being turned to look straight into the wolf's eyes. As he let Derek's voice lull him back to some semblance of clarity, eventually his eyes began to clear. He held Derek's gaze, the only thing that wasn't covered in haze. The green of his eyes seemed to glow in relation to the darkness around everything else. It was only when his body relaxed, and he hit the sofa, that he realised his shirt was open. He was too physically and emotionally drained to care. It wasn’t long before the tears began to flow, the ones he’d been holding back, too afraid to let them spill in case they never stopped. It was too much. The weight he had taken on had become too much to bare and he’d let his whole body give in under the strain. And now all he could think about was a way to escape. He wanted to escape his own mind. He thought of the peace on Derek’s face as he allowed Stiles to pleasure him. His eyes had fallen back and he was lost to a dream land of carefree thought. Stiles wanted that. He needed it. And so, in a haze of tears and desperation for an exit, he climbed into Derek’s lap and begged him for the one thing he prayed would finally release him.

‘Please…make me forget.’

He kissed Derek frantically and almost cried in relief when, a few moments later, Derek pulled him even closer and met Stiles with equal need and desire. Stiles moaned into his mouth, rolling his hips and begging with his tongue. Derek replied to each sound, each movement with encouragement, his hands running all over Stiles’ body. After a few minutes of uninterrupted bliss, Derek pushed Stiles away and made to stand. Stiles slipped off his lap and looked up at him with fear.

‘Please…’

Stiles watched as Derek looked down on him, his expression unreadable, his mouth slightly parted in a slow pant. And then he held out a hand and Stiles grabbed it, pulling himself up. Derek then made a move for the spiral staircase in the corner of the room, Stiles’ hand still clasped in his. Stiles’ heart was hammering in his chest and he could feel the tears drying on his cheeks, his eyes still wet. When they reached the top of the stairs, Derek leading the way, they came to a small landing and a single door. Derek turned the handle and pulled Stiles through to the dark room. A moment later, their hands never parting, the lights came on and Stiles blinked in the room for the first time.

It was an open plan living arrangement. The living room was off to Stiles’ left, two dark blue, expensive looking sofas arranged to best view the large TV in the corner. Further along the long living space was the modern kitchen with black marble work surfaces and a large island with the same finishing. At the end of the room was a door which he could only assume lead to the bedroom. His breath hitched briefly at the thought of Derek’s bed, his naked body writhing on the sheets. He allowed the wolf to lead him through to the room in question and paused for a moment before opening it. Stiles could tell he was giving Stiles a chance to change his mind but Stiles only pulled him close and kissed him with urgency. Derek fumbled with the handle, opening the door with his hand behind his back as he kissed Stiles thoroughly. They stumbled into the room and Stiles heard Derek run a hand up the wall in search of the light switch. Stiles barely noticed the light coming on as he had his eyes shut as his mind hazed over in excitement. He allowed Derek to pull him to the bed where he fell onto it, Derek coming with him. He kicked off his shoes, still grabbing at Derek’s body.

With his shirt already open, Derek made quick work of running his tongue down his chest, stopping to play with each nipple, biting lightly. His large hands held Stiles’ hips down, thumbs hooking into his jeans to stroke against his hip bone. Stiles rock and rolled his pelvis, back arching into Derek’s touch. Derek’s tongue stopped at the waistband of his underwear and sat back to undo the jeans and drag them down Stiles’ legs. When they were gone, Derek rubbed a palm over the bulge in Stiles’ grey underwear. A dark patch had already formed from Stiles’ precum and Derek gave it a single lick, eliciting a groan from the teen.

‘Oh god, please…Derek…’ Stiles didn’t know if he could wait much longer. He needed Derek’s touch, needed to be drowned in his scent, held by his strong arms, brought back to sanity by his life giving lips. He didn’t have to wait long as Derek peeled back the briefs to expose his member and took it in his hand. Stiles pushed up into it and gripped the bedsheets tightly. Removing his briefs entirely, Derek lifted Stiles’ legs with ease and flipped him onto his front. Stiles gasped and rolled his hips to rub himself into the soft linen. He shrugged off his shirt and tossed it to the floor as Derek pulled Stiles’ backside towards him and spread his cheeks with strong fingers. Stiles could feel him using one thumb to rub over his pucker and he cried out in short, sharp bursts, again and again, urging him on. ‘More, more!’

And Derek obliged. The thumb was gone and replaced with a probing tongue, sending Stiles’ mind into overdrive. Derek lapped at him and brought his thumb back, slowly pressing harder each time until the tip of his thumb pushed inside. Stiles hissed but pushed back onto Derek’s finger at the same time. Derek took the digit away and swirled his tongue over the pink ring of muscles, soothing the pain. Stiles could feel him using a different finger and cried out as it was pushed inside of him, going much further than before. Derek held it there this time, waiting for Stiles’ body to relax around the intrusion. Stiles felt Derek lean forward and drop kisses along his spine.

‘Relax. It’ll pass.’ he whispered into his ear. Stiles briefly wondered if Derek had ever had this done to himself but the finger was then being pressed even further inside and his mind went blank. The process continued in much the same way until Stiles was relaxed and easily taking Derek’s finger, in and out, Derek’s soothing tongue proving lubricant. There was a sudden emptiness inside of him and Derek moved to the bedside table to retrieve something. Stiles looked over his shoulder as best he could while face down on the mattress. He heard the click of a bottle cap and soon felt the cold gel on his backside. The feeling of Derek’s finger, properly lubricated, was exquisite and he moaned in approval.

‘Oh fuck. Fuck, Derek, yes…’

And Stiles continued to moan out profanities as Derek added more and more fingers until he was pressing all four into Stiles’ tight pucker.

‘You ready for something bigger?’ Derek’s husky voice came from over Stiles’ left shoulder. He shivered in anticipation but nodded, cheek brushing against the sheets. He heard the sound of clothes hitting the hardwood floor, rustling and a few moments of silence before the sound of Derek squirting lube into his hand. Stiles pushed himself up a little and half turned to watch Derek lather himself up, pumping his extraordinary large cock. It was bigger than he remembered and he felt some anxiety pooling in his stomach. He swallowed thickly and Derek shot him a look. Stiles blushed and turned completely onto his back. Derek must have sensed his apprehension as he came to hover over Stiles, looking into his eyes. ‘You sure you want this?’ Stiles’ mouth opened, lips wet and feeling swollen from kissing. Derek’s eyes were even more fascinating in the low light of the bedroom. Stiles felt his throat close and his voice came out in a whisper.

‘Yes.’

Derek’s lips turned up ever so slightly in one corner, into a smile. He kissed Stiles deeply, hand coming to cup his face. Their tongues swirled and tangled and he pulled away, scraping his teeth over Stiles’ bottom lip. And then he sat up, dragging Stiles closer by the back of his knees. He spread Stiles’ legs wider and pushed his knees as far into Stiles’ chest as possible. Stiles grabbed the underside of his thighs, holding his legs back to give Derek entry. His heart began to flutter frantically but was soothed by Derek’s hand reaching over to stroke gently down his cheek, thumb brushing his lips. He then lined himself up and slowed pressed forward.

Stiles felt the tip break past the muscle and his abdomen tightened on instinct. He breathed deeply to relax himself and let Derek press on. He moved slowly but the pain only grew and grew as the muscles were stretched more and more. The bulge in Derek’s cock was only an inch away and Stiles wasn’t sure he could take much more.

‘Oh god! Oh my god, it’s too big. I can’t…I can’t.’

‘Relax.’

‘I-I’m trying…’

Derek paused for a moment but not for long. Stiles could tell he was holding himself back, wanting to surge forward but trying to ease Stiles into it. His eyes were closed, lips pressed together so tightly they had almost vanished. His breathing was deep and slow, controlled. He pushed on and Stiles cried out loudly, gripping Derek’s arms which were on either side of Stiles’ torso. Stiles’ pucker stretched beyond his imagination and he was afraid it would rip. But with a few more patient breaths, the pain began to subside. Derek pushed on and eventually filled Stiles to the hilt. He held still for a long while, waiting for Stiles to adjust to his size. Stiles had his eyes shut too, trying to keep himself calm while his body screamed at him that something was wrong. But as he waited, and the pain reduced, he found himself bucking on instinct. And that was when Derek pulled out and forced himself back in.

‘Aaahhhh! Ah! Ah! Aaaahhh! Oh god!’

Derek surged forward again and Stiles responded in the same way. They both had their eyes open now, Derek watching Stiles cry out, his lips held in his teeth, grunting at each stroke. Stiles held his legs back and looked over his body to watch Derek slide in and out of him. It was unbelievably erotic and Stiles groaned and threw his head back. Derek moved his hands, which had been grasping the sheets, to pull Stiles’ buttocks apart, stretching him even further which had Stiles practically sobbing in pleasure. The pleasure only built more and more, Stiles’ vision going white. He let his mouth hang open and his body go limp and Derek pounded into him. His mind was void, all thought gone, overwhelmed by pleasure.

As Stiles let himself be fucked over and over, he hardly noticed being flipped over again. Derek did the same as he had before, pulling Stiles’ backside closer. He pushed himself back in again and Stiles groaned. Derek brought the pace back up and held Stiles’ hips, pushing as deep as he could get. The rhythm was strong and steady and Stiles felt as though he could go forever. He was a wash of mind numbing pleasure and never wanted it to end. But it only got better when, a few strokes later, his vision went completely white and his whole body rocked.

‘Oh god! Do that again!’

Derek complied and pressed the sweet spot again and again. Stiles cried out, screamed for more, scrabbled at the sheets and sobbed Derek’s name. He’d never felt such intensity before. Not even his happiest or most miserable thought could beat the intensity of the pleasure he was feeling as Derek forced himself into him over and over. Derek’s hand then came around his front and tugged at his cock and Stiles was even more convinced. Derek pulled Stiles up into a kneeling position, holding him up with an arm across his chest. Stiles grabbed onto his muscled bicep and leant his head back on Derek’s shoulder. Derek panted into his ear, groaning with Stiles.

‘You’re so fucking tight.’

‘Yeah…fuck me.’

‘So tight.’

Derek then let go of Stiles’ cock and used his free hand to turn Stiles’ face and kissed him soundly. Stiles moaned into his mouth and bit at his tongue. Stiles took hold of his cock and continued to pump it. He could feel his orgasm beginning to pool, his abdomen warm and tingling.

‘Derek…I think…I’m gonna cum.’ Derek licked along Stiles throat, teeth scraping his adam’s apple. ‘Derek…’ Stiles knew it wouldn’t take much more before he was gone. Derek continued to suck at the soft skin of his neck, hard and wet, letting the flesh go with a wet pop. And then he pressed his lips to Stiles’ ear and whispered in a husky tone.

‘Cum for me, Stiles.’

And Stiles was thrown over the edge. His body tensed and his mind exploded in white stars, his hips bucking again and again as he shot all over the sheets. He cried out, half voice, half ragged breath. Derek’s name was thrown into the mix of sound pouring from his mouth along with a chorus of ‘yes, yes, yes!’

It wasn’t long before Derek too was cuming, his hands gripping Stiles’ waist as he pushed him down onto his hands and knees, pounding into him harder and faster than before. Stiles felt the pricking of claws on his skin but was too busy riding the final waves of his orgasm to care. Derek let out a deep growl as he finally went over and began to slow his paced as his body went rigid in ecstasy. A few moments later, he stilled. His hands were still gripping Stiles tightly as they both panted and slowed down their rapid heartrates. Stiles let out a final, depleted moan, as Derek pulled out his heavy cock. The empty feeling he left behind was horribly foreign to Stiles and he wondered how long it would last. He collapsed onto his stomach and rolled onto his side, one arm throw out above him, on the pillow. Derek turned to sit on the end of the bed, hands on his knees, catching his breath. Stiles watched him remove the condom and disappearing through a door on the left of the bed. He waited for him to return but his eyes were already drooping. His mind was completely empty, a warmth filling his entire body. For the first time in months, he felt completely at ease. When Derek came back into the room, his eyes were already closing and he could just make out the tall, dark figure leaning over him as he succumbed to a deep and dreamless sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked it.  
> Don't hate on Lydia. She doesn't mean what she says and makes amends soon!


	10. Light of Day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello.  
> No warnings for this chapter :)  
> I hope you like it.

Tuesday, 30th December

Stiles woke to the sound of buzzing. He groaned and rolled away from the ringing of his alarm. He pulled his pillow around his face, blocking out the sunlight that blared harshly through the window. The buzzing continued. He didn't want to move. He'd never felt so comfortable. Even so, he reached out an arm to smack at the offending alarm but his hand simply scanned over the bedside table. Stiles scrunched up his face, eyes still closed. Maybe his alarm had fallen on the floor in the night. He stretched his arm out to the floor but found nothing there either. He sighed and pried his eyes open and felt his heart almost leap out of his chest.

He wasn't in his own room.

And that was when the previous night came cartwheeling back into his mind. He sat up abruptly, looking around the room. He was in bed, his clothes scattered over the floor. The buzzing sound was apparently not his alarm but a phone. He didn't know if it was his own or Derek's, the man laying asleep beside him. Stiles paused a moment to look over Derek's sleeping form. He was on his back, one above his head, his chest exposed as the duvet was draped messily around his waist. Stiles couldn't help grinning. But then the buzzing jolted him back to reality and he dove over Derek to find his phone in his jeans pocket. Derek grunted at the weight of Stiles on his chest and shoved him off. Stiles tumbled off the bed, dragging the duvet with him. He found his phone and saw his dad's name on the screen.

'Fuck!' He'd forgotten to tell his dad he wasn't coming home that night. He'd been a little too preoccupied with Derek's cock to even think of his father. He answered the call, bringing the phone to his ear. 'Hello?'

'Where the hell are you!?' his dad shouted down the line. 'I have been out of my mind with worry! With all these shootings going on, I thought you'd been killed!'

'I'm sorry, Dad. I'm fine.'

'Where have you been?' he demanded, Stiles’ apology meaning nothing in the face of his father’s fear. 'And don't tell me you've been with Scott. I called him and he said he hasn't seen you since last night at Derek's place. He's been just as worried about you as I have. I was up half the night looking for you! Where are you?!'

Stiles pressed the palm of his left hand into his eye. Fuck. He had no idea what to say. He needed to come up with something, quick.

'I went for a drive. I needed some space.'

'A drive?' His dad’s voice was sceptical but at least the shouting had stopped.

'Yeah. I just needed to be alone.'

His dad was silent for a moment.

'Does this have something to do with Lydia?' Stiles opened his mouth, a little surprised. 'Scott told me you two had had an argument about Allison or something. Is that why you didn't come home?'

Stiles felt his stomach knotting as his lie began to blossom.

'Yeah. I just needed some time to think. I drove out of town for a few hours and umm, slept in my car.'

The sheriff sighed.

'Stiles, you should have come home.' He sounded tired, as though the night awake with worry was finally catching up to him.

'I know. I'm sorry. I'll be home soon.'

'Where are you now?'

'I'm just driving back to Beacon Hills. I had to pull over when you called. That's why it took me so long to pick up.' The discomfort in his gut got worse as his lie sprung new leaves. 'I know I should have called. I just wasn't thinking straight.'

'It's ok, kiddo. I...I know how hard this has been on you. I just...I almost lost you back then. I-' His voice cut off and Stiles felt his heart wrench. 'I can't lose you. I just need you safe.'

Stiles nodded then remembered his dad couldn't see him.

'I'll see you in a bit.'

They finished their conversation and Stiles hung up, dropping his phone and hiding his face in his hands. When he looked up, Derek was gone from the bed. During the call he had moved into what Stiles could only assume was the bathroom. He pushed himself up off the floor, only just realising the pain rippling through his body. His hips were stiff, his neck felt bruised from Derek's lips and his backside was flaring in sharp pain. He moved slowly and managed to stand without too much suffering and went to join Derek.

He found Derek standing the shower, his naked form even more attractive in the daylight. Stiles toyed awkwardly with a towel hanging on a rack on the wall. Derek turned to look at him and opened the glass door to the shower, indicating for Stiles to get in. Stiles dipped his head and stepped inside, Derek shutting the door behind him. The water was warm, a little too warm for Stiles' liking but he kept quiet. Derek reached behind him for a bar of soap and offered it to Stiles wordlessly. He took it tentatively, finding himself unable to look him in the eye. The previous night's activities had been fuelled but desperation and lust but now, in the glorious truth of daylight, he was embarrassed. Derek had seen him naked, was currently watching him soap himself, exposed to potentially judging eyes.

They showered in silence, Derek washing his hair and handing Stiles the shampoo in exchange for the soap when he was done with it. Stiles avoided making eye contact with Derek's member too. The thought of it inside him, only hours earlier, had him shivering with disbelief and excitement. If Derek noticed, he didn't respond.

When they were both suitably clean, the remains of last night swirling round the plughole, Derek turned off the shower and stepped out. He grabbed two towels, tossing one at Stiles who only just managed to catch it, stopping it from falling to the wet bottom of the shower. Drying himself off, he noticed that Derek threw him a few glances and he felt heat seeping into his cheeks. Derek wrapped his towel around his waist and moved into the bedroom. Stiles hesitated in following, a little unsure of Derek's temperament. As of yet, he hadn’t kicked Stiles out, a good sign, but he’d been less than friendly.

Stiles too hung the towel around his hips and looked into the fogged up mirror. He wiped a hand through the condensation until he could make out his reflection. He hissed at the sight of the dark purple bruise on his neck, rubbing a hand over it and wondering how he could cover it up. He couldn’t very well spend the next week with his hoodie up or a scarf wrapped tightly around his neck. He sighed heavily and ran a hand through his wet hair. He’d need to borrow some hair gel or wax before he left. If he came home with freshly cleaned hair his father would know his story of sleeping in his car was a lie. He left the bathroom and found Derek sat on the bed, pulling on a fresh pair of jeans and t shirt. It was, no surprise, black and very tight. Stiles felt himself stir beneath his towel but schooled his expression into one of disinterest. When Derek was fully dressed, he made to leave the room, stopping at the door and turning back.

‘Breakfast?’

Stiles was taken aback but tried to act calm.

‘Sure.’

A few minutes later, Stiles left the bedroom, rubbing his hair with the towel and found Derek at the breakfast bar, whisking a bowl of eggs. On the counter he could see eight broken egg shells, a loaf of bread and an empty packet of sausages.

‘You sure like eggs.’ he joked. Derek didn’t look up.

‘Protein.’

‘Ah.’ Stiles sat on one of the stools tucked under the bar, draping his towel over his shoulders. ‘Anything I can do to help?’ Derek continued to whisk but looked along the counter. He reached out and tossed the bagged loaf of bread to him. Stiles removed the sticky plastic tag keeping the bag closed and took out four slices. He held them up and Derek nodded in approval of the number of slices. ‘Toasted?’ Derek nodded again.

Stiles slipped off the stool and looked around for the toaster. He found it on the counter behind Derek and slipped past him to get to it. He set the timer to two minutes and put all four pieces in. He then moved to the fridge to get butter. He hummed to himself as he looked along the shelves.

‘Top of the door.’

Stiles looked over his shoulder at Derek’s words but he was facing the other way, pouring the whisked eggs into a saucepan. Stiles looked back to the fridge and found the butter where Derek had instructed. He also spotted a carton of orange juice, the same he had at home, and carried both items to the breakfast bar. He asked for glasses and Derek pointed over his shoulder with his thumb to a high shelf. Stiles collected two and poured the juice. Derek took a sip from his and continued to stir the eggs. He picked up the pepper grinder and held it in front of Stiles. Stiles nodded and Derek put a healthy amount into the pan. Stiles watched his arm muscles ripple slightly as he ground the pepper and licked his bottom lip. The toast then popped up and Stiles carried the pieces over to the plates Derek had set out, “oo-ing” and “ah-ing” at the heat which burnt at his fingers. Dropping the toast onto the plates, Stiles licked his sore pads. Derek offered him a knife and Stiles took it, one finger still in his mouth. Derek’s gaze fell to the finger in question and the lips sucking around it, his mouth falling open a little. Stiles slowly took it out and set about spreading butter on the toast.

Once Stiles had buttered the toast without too much mess, he put away the butter and went back to his seat. He waited for Derek to finish up, taking the sausages out from under the grill and splitting the eggs evenly between the two plates. Stiles let his eyes wander over the apartment, impressed by the luxury and light that bathed the room from the large windows. He noticed, however, a lack of artwork on the white walls. Or photos. He corrected himself; there was one photo in Derek's room. It was a photo of himself with his family, probably a little younger than Stiles was now. He'd noticed it before joining Derek in the kitchen but felt as though he were violating Derek's space by peering at it for too long. He thought of how strange it was that the only photo in his house was on his bedside table, his parents' faces in clear view of any bedtime activity. Stiles then thought of his own room where several photos of his mother and father littered his notice board and desk. Although, he'd never had sex in his room. That led to him to thinking about having sex with Derek in his room. He smirked bitterly; he was getting ahead of himself. It had been one night – two really – and he was sure Derek would insist that they pretend it had never happened. After all, Derek had a reputation to uphold and Stiles didn’t exactly fit the “big, bad” look Derek was going for. In fact, Stiles was more of a “small and unintentionally clumsy, often leading him to trouble” kind of guy. The two didn’t really complement one another. It was a shame, in Stiles’ mind, as they had complemented one another so perfectly in the bedroom.

Derek finished plating up the food and handed Stiles some cutlery. The wolf sat on the stool at the end of the breakfast bar and began to tuck in. Stiles looked at his plate and his stomach grumbled loudly. The food looked good. The eggs were bright yellow, the sausages perfectly cooked. The toast was slightly burnt, Stiles’ trademark, but otherwise the meal was perfect. He took his first few bites and hummed in approval.

‘t’s good!’ he mumbled, a bit of egg falling from his mouth. Derek’s nostrils flared in distaste but otherwise he ignored the comment. Stiles shovelled some more into his mouth, wondering how Derek had made the eggs taste so good. He looked up, about to ask, but stopped to watch Derek eating his own breakfast. There was something so mundane about it. He’d imagined it to be a refined display what would put Stiles to shame. But he ate like any other person. He had his elbows on the table, used only his fork while he used his free hand to mess about on his phone. Stiles smiled. ‘I’ve never seen you eat before.’

Derek stopped his folk in mid-air, eyes darting up to look at Stiles from beneath thick eyebrows. Stiles tried to grin again but quickly looked back down at his plate. Derek, it seemed, was not much of a morning person. Stiles thought about that for a moment and realised that Derek was being no more distant than normal. Perhaps he just wasn’t an anytime person. He grinned at his musings, earning another look from Derek.

After breakfast, Derek took all the dishes to the dishwasher and refused Stile’s offer to help tidy up. Derek told him to collect his things and get ready to leave; his father was expecting him. Stiles remembered that Derek must have heard his conversation with his dad when they had woken and wondered if Derek thought badly of him for lying. He didn’t have time to worry though; as Derek said, his dad was waiting. Stiles grabbed his shoes and socks and pulled them on. He then went into Derek’s bathroom and sorted his hair, sure Derek wouldn’t mind him using some of his rather expensive looking gel. As for the hickey, the collar of his plaid shirt, when angled right, covered it nicely. He’d have to keep an eye on it but if he was careful, he could get away with it. Once he was sure he had everything, his keys and phone in his pockets, he went back out to the kitchen where Derek was wiping down the surfaces.

‘Umm, so, thanks for last night. I’m sorry I got all weird, I just…it-’

‘It’s fine.’ Derek repeated himself from the other day.

‘Ok...good…that’s good. Ok.’ Stiles rocked on his feet, unsure how they were meant to part ways. Would they ever talk about what happened? Was Derek going to kiss him? No, of course not. Stupid thought. Maybe he should hug him. That thought was also quickly vetoed. No, it was best to say a quick goodbye, thank him for the breakfast, leave and spend the rest of their lives pretending it had never happened. ‘I’ll just go then. Thanks for the food.’ Stiles stopped as he made to move towards the door. 'Err, this might sound strange but…have you got any snacks? Like chips, or something?’ Derek look at Stiles questioningly, as if he hadn’t just fed him. ‘It's just that my dad won't believe I spent a night driving without at least one bag of horrendously unhealthy snacks.' Derek moved around the kitchen, seemingly ignoring Stiles. 'Of course you don't. I bet you don't eat crap like that, not with a body like yours.' The wolf moved to a cupboard above the microwave and tossed something at Stiles. Stiles laughed as it landed on the table. 'Cheetos. Your one weakness, eh?' Derek shrugged. Cheetos were one of Stiles' personal favourites. He loved the fact that even after you'd devoured the whole bag, the treat continued as you sucked the orange powder off your fingers. He wondered if Derek did the same or if he had more grace than Stiles and washed the mess away. ‘Thanks.’ he said, holding the bag up. He walked to the door.

‘You shouldn’t let what other people say affect you like that.’ Stiles turned at the door, surprised by the sound of Derek’s voice. It was the most he’d said to Stiles all morning. ‘Lydia spoke out of frustration and you fell apart. You can’t expect me or anyone else to be there to catch you next time.’

Stiles paused for a long moment, feeling his mouth go dry. He knew what Derek was saying. It was what he had expected and yet hearing it came as a blow; last night had been a mistake. Stiles gave a short nod before darting out the door and hurrying down to the safety of his car.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked it.  
> I might post another chapter tonight if you guys want? This one felt kinda short so I feel bad haha.


	11. Guilty Pleasure

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again!  
> I thought I would give you a longer chapter to chew on.  
> You get a but of Danny in this one :)  
> Enjoy!

Tuesday, 30th December

Derek had watched his chest rise and fall. The morning light licked at his pale skin, dark moles scattered over his body, round and eye-catching. In typical Stiles style, he’d turned out to be a messy sleeper. He’d rolled around all morning, dragging the covers off Derek’s body and mumbled in his sleep. Derek found he didn’t mind. It was surprisingly nice to share his bed with someone, even if it was Stiles. He hadn’t realised it had been so long since he’d enjoyed watching a lover lay beside him, their body laying peacefully under Derek’s guarding eye. When Stiles’ phone had begun to ring, Derek rolled onto his back and waited with closed eyes for Stiles to answer it. The teen had taken a long time to wake and Derek began to get impatient, feeling a fool for pretending to be asleep in his own bed, the one Stiles had destroyed with his endless fidgeting. And the knee to his ribs had hardly been appreciated and marked the end of Derek’s tether. He’d moved to the bathroom, ears still intently listening to the conversation in the other room. He had heard the Sheriff’s side of the conversation too, his wolf senses coming in handy. He’d questioned Stiles’ lie, wondering how well Stiles could keep a secret, especially from his father. On the one hand, he’d managed to keep the existence of the entire supernatural from his father for about a year, despite the Sheriff being involved in several of their werewolf antics. On the other hand, Stiles didn’t seem to cope well with anything pertaining to himself. Derek was sure he could see Stiles’ lie crumbling easily and wondered how much trouble he’d be in if the Sheriff found out Derek had “deflowered” his precious baby boy.

When Stiles had joined him in the bathroom, Derek found himself unable to resist sharing a shower with him. He’d been intrigued by his attraction to the boy and used the mutual need for a shower as an opportunity to get a few final looks in before they went their separate ways and forgot all about it. Stiles had been surprisingly shy which only served to further entice Derek, sending conflicting signals through his body. Stiles was an underage, teenage boy, the son of the town’s Sheriff and a complete nightmare whom Derek had never spared a single thought. But now he was Stiles, the irritatingly desirable young man with whom Derek had shared an incredible night, fuelled by emotionally disturbing desperation for comfort and distraction. Derek was ashamed to admit the last part was something they were both guilty of. Seeing Stiles gradually fall apart had brought back a lot of old memories for Derek and reminded him how lonely he often found himself. He enjoyed his own company and found others difficult to fit into his lifestyle but that didn’t mean he enjoyed total solitary. Everyone needed someone in their lives. However, Derek refused to let it be Stiles. His newfound attraction to the boy would pass. It was a momentary blip in the grand scheme of his life.

Derek, his mind set on letting this confusing situation end the way it should - Stiles doing the walk of shame back to his car, Derek stripping the bed and washing the sex stained sheets - had every intention of showing Stiles the door the moment he was dressed. But, as he made for his bedroom door, he found himself unable to end things quite so soon. And thus, he had sat through an awkward breakfast with the boy, purely to satisfy his own, twisted desire to ogle him for as long as possible. Derek had had some pretty damn good sex in his life, unfortunately with several undesirable women as it turned out, but nothing had been quite like what he’d experienced with Stiles. Stiles was, by no means, an expert. He had been a virgin and had no idea what he was doing, but the way he had begged and cried out, grabbed at Derek and needed him so desperately had put Derek right on the edge of his control. He’d found himself slipping over the edge several times and even feared turning full wolf as the pleasure and excitement became too much to contain. But now it was over and he felt a ball of guilt building in his gut. Stiles was, as far as the law was concerned, a child.

When Stiles had gone to get ready to leave, Derek had held his head in his hands. He didn’t know what he was doing. He needed to get the boy out of there before he gave into his urges and pounced on him again. He had tried to keep up his air of indifference but Stiles seemed to make it his mission to bring his walls down. He’d clearly been watching him all morning, even commenting on his eating which had Derek driving away a blush at the thought that Stiles had paid him enough attention to notice such mundane things about him. When he’d come back out of the bedroom, Derek made himself busy in the kitchen and acted nonchalant as Stiles made to leave. He even tried to tell himself to ignore Stiles’ ramblings about unhealthy snacks but found himself unable to deny him when he knew there was a bag of Cheetos in the cupboard. He’d sacrificed his favourite snack for the boy; he was clearly losing his marbles.

As Stiles made to leave, Derek had, once again, found himself unable to stop his mouth running a mile a minute. But this time, it was his logic speaking. He needed to let Stiles know that this could never happen again, that it was too dangerous for him to let his emotions control his actions if sex with people he hardly knew was the consequence. Thank god it had been Derek and not some random guy who could have taken advantage of him. Derek wondered if _he_ had taken advantage of Stiles in his moment of despair but left that thought for another time; he was already overwhelmed. Stiles had looked put out, his expression darkening, and he’d fled from the loft before Derek had the chance to change his mind and drag the boy back to the bedroom, his primitive instincts sickening him.

The rest of the day, Derek had spent an irritatingly long portion of his time willing his mobile to chime. He’d thought about Stiles all day, wondering what he was doing, wondering if he’d managed to convince his dad of his whereabouts and what he would tell Scott. Scott would surely ring him soon if Stiles didn’t let him know he was safe. And it was New Year’s Eve the next day. Stiles would surely have plans and Derek worried the boy might accidentally let something slip in an intoxicated state. The last thing Derek needed was anyone finding out that he’d slept with Stiles, or worse, attracted to him. He was suddenly glad Jackson wasn’t around. If he were, and word got out of Derek and Stiles indiscretions, he’d surely be the first to remark on Derek’s taste, accusing him of “scraping the barrel” or something equally derogatory in reference to Stiles’ appearance and personality. Derek had to admit, Stiles wasn’t exactly his cup of tea in character. He was too loud, often obnoxious and frustratingly nosy. He raised such irritation in Derek that he often found himself wanting to throttle the boy. Derek wondered if beneath his desire to wrap his hands around his neck had been an underlying desire to simply touch his visibly smooth skin but he waved that thought; it was best not to dwell too hard on what could be an entirely new, and more complicated, can of worms.

Derek grumbled and tossed his phone on the sofa, throwing himself down with it and holding a cushion over his face. While Stiles may not be the most suave of folks and not exactly Derek’s “type”, it was undeniable that the excitement Stiles had instilled in him, the passion Derek thought he had lost, was enough to leave him wanting more.

xxx

Returning home from Derek’s loft had Stiles on edge. He felt a ball of guilt swelling within him the moment he pulled up onto the driveway. He could see his dad’s worried face peeking out through the kitchen window; he’d probably been waiting there all morning. Stiles pulled himself out of his jeep, taking his jacket and the almost empty bag of Cheetos with him. He’d eaten some on the way home but after the massive breakfast Derek had cooked he could hardly fit anything else in. He’d stopped to throw some in a bin alongside the road, hating himself for wasting the most delectable treat. But he hated himself more when he opened the door and his father hurried over, pulling him into the house with a massive hug. Stiles let his dad hold him for as long as he needed, hiding his face in the Sheriff’s shoulder.

‘The next time you’re feeling that way, you call me, ok?’

Stiles nodded, his voice caught in his throat.

After that, they let the matter rest. His dad had an afternoon shift at the station, despite it being the day before New Year’s Eve, and left Stiles, albeit unwillingly, for work. They’d spent the rest of the morning watching TV together, Stiles keeping his mind off his phone as much as possible, save from the texts he got from Scott as he told him the same story he’d told his dad. Scott had been equally sympathetic, adding to Stiles’ ball of guilt, churning in his stomach. However, the moment his father had left the house, he’d grabbed his phone from his pocket in the vain hopes that Derek might have texted him. Stiles tried not to feel too disappointed when he found his screen void of any messages. He slumped into the sofa cushions.

He wasn’t entirely sure what he wanted from Derek. He knew the sex had been amazing, no doubt about it. He guessed what he really wanted was for Derek to be there when he needed him. For the first time in as long as Stiles could remember, he’d slept soundly. He’d had a dreamless sleep and felt refreshed when he’d awoken. Sex with Derek had been like a blur in time; the world had stood still and Stiles had had a chance to catch his breath. But soon enough he knew the darkness would set back in and the sleepless nights would haunt him once more. But if Derek wasn’t willing to keep things going, to change the relationship they had, Stiles would have to find another way to deal with his problems.

In brushing their passing “fling” under the proverbial carpet, Stiles supposed there may be an element of awkwardness between them. However, he supposed any awkwardness that arose from last night could be no worse than the estranged relationship they had prior to their newfound attraction to one another. They had never been "friends" so it wouldn't matter if they went their separate ways and avoided one another, save from the occasions when they all met up to discuss something important. Stiles nodded to himself. It would be fine. But a small voice in his head, which later would grow into an unbearable screaming, reminded him that the intimacy he had shared with Derek was the only relief he had felt in months and that without it he would slip back into the hovel that his mind had become. Fuck soccer or boxing, what he needed was passion and mind numbing pleasure.

For the rest of the day, Stiles distracted himself with TV. He spent the majority of his day on the sofa, moving only to change the channel and to get more popcorn from the kitchen. The next day followed much the same. He’d kept his phone close but far enough away that he wasn’t tempted to message Derek. However, late afternoon on New Year’s Eve he received a call from Scott. Stiles had jumped at the sound of his phone buzzing on the coffee table and snatched it up. He ignored the disappointment at seeing Scott’s name and answered as cheerfully as he could.

‘Hey, Scottie.’

‘Hey, dude. You ok?’

‘Yeah, yeah, I’m ok. I’m sorry for worrying you like that.’

‘It’s cool, man. We gotta look out for each other.’ Scott’s sympathy and understanding only made Stiles feel worse. He never questioned Stiles or pushed him into talking. He was patient and far too kind. ‘Look, there’s this party, tonight. I know you’re not in the best place right now, and I totally get it if you don’t wanna come, but-’

‘I thought you were coming over here tonight?’

‘Yeah, I still can. It’s just that we both got invited to a party and I thought it might help you feel better.’

‘A party?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Ok, Scottie, I’m gonna need more info than that. Where is this party taking place?’

‘Blackwell Lane.’

‘Blackwe-? Lydia’s house?’

‘Umm…yeah.’ Scott paused, as if hoping Stiles would say something. He sighed. ‘Look, I know things between you two are a little awkward at the moment but she told me to invite you. That’s got to mean something, right?’

xxx

Wednesday, 31st December

Several hours later, Stiles found himself being dragged along the path leading up to Lydia's house. Scott had his arm around Kira's waist, holding onto Stiles' upper arm with his other hand.

'I said I'd go, you don't need to drag me.' Stiles said irritably, wincing as Scott seemed to have forgotten his werewolf strength.

'I know, I just didn't want you flaking at the last minute.'

'It's gonna be fun!' Kira said, bouncing in step. Scott hummed in agreement.

'You don't wanna miss out.'

Stiles wasn't sure how much fun he would have while trying to avoid Lydia in her own home. Although, as Scott had said, the fact she had invited him to her party, albeit second hand, meant she must regret her words. That or she pitied him. Stiles hoped it wasn't the latter.

When they reached the house, they found the front door open, the party inside in full swing. Scott let Kira pull him inside, Stiles gingerly following. The living room was a wash of bodies, drinks flowing and the music vibrating through the walls and floor. Stiles could see many familiar faces, people from his classes along with those in other years. He spotted Isaac looking a little forlorn and, for once, felt sorry for him. Like Stiles, he had probably been dragged to the party. As he peered into the kitchen he spotted Danny chatting to an attractive guy from the year below. Danny spotted him and raised a hand in a wave. Stiles gave a half smile as he was hurried off to the drinks table.

‘Looks like the usual crowd.’ Stiles mumbled.

‘Yeah, isn’t this great?! It’s gonna be so fun.’ Kira took the drink Scott offered her and smiled up at him. Scott looked at her with a glimmer in his eyes and Stiles looked away, their budding love a little too sweet to stomach. ‘And Lydia told me she sent Malia a message, inviting her too.’

‘I doubt she’d come.’ Scott said around his cup. ‘Ever since she found out about Peter, she’s kept away from Beacon Hills. I think she’s looking for her birth mother.’

‘She is.’ Stiles confirmed.

‘You still talking to her?’ Scott asked, drink at his lips. ‘I know you two had a little bit of a thing.’

‘It was hardly “a thing”. But yeah, we still talk. Although she hasn’t messaged me in a couple weeks now.’

‘I hope she’s ok.’ Kira said, eyes downcast with genuine worry. It was one of the reasons Stiles liked her; she was entirely forth coming with her emotions and almost consistently happy. He guessed it could be a little much to bare but for Scott, her gentile, happy disposition was perfect. He was glad Scott had someone after what had happened to Allison.

Stiles helped himself to a rum and coke and stuck close to Scott’s side. He kept a wary eye out for Lydia but knew it was only a matter of minutes before she popped out and greeted them with hand on hip and a tray of champagne. It happened when Scott moved across the living room to see Isaac, Stiles following unwillingly. Lydia appeared in the dining room doorway, looking as beautiful as ever.

‘Why hello. Welcome to my festive New Year’s Eve party. Everyone, take some champagne.’

They all took a glass from her tray, apart from Stiles who held up his full cup.

‘I’m good, thanks.’

Lydia smiled sweetly but Stiles could see through the façade of her plump lips pulled tightly over smooth, white teeth. She was still furious with him. But she moved along and greeted other new guests at the door. Scott chatted to Isaac, asking him how Allison had been that day. Stiles chose that as the perfect time to slip away and moved into the more brightly lit kitchen where the chatter was only marginally quieter. He caught Danny’s eyes again and wandered over just as the cute guy he’d been talking too walked off with a last lingering look at Danny’s chest.

‘Hey.’

‘Hi.’ Danny greeted, sipping his beer.

‘Great party.’ Stiles said pathetically, useless at small talk. Danny nodded.

‘Yeah, Lydia’s really outdone herself again. She makes a great host.’

‘Yeah, I guess she does.’ Stiles looked around the room to fill the silence of their stagnant conversation.

‘So…how’s Allison?’

Stiles’ stomach dropped out of his arse.

‘Uh, she’s umm…well, you know, in a coma still, so…’

‘Not great, huh?’

‘No, not the best.’

Danny nodded again. They both avoided eyes contact for a few painful seconds. Then Danny broke the tension.

‘You know I know, right?’

‘What, about Scott and Derek and Lydia and all that?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Yup, Ethan kinda filled us all in on that before he left. How did you know?’

‘How could I not? You guys were all acting so strange all the time, although you and Scott were pretty much always strange, and then Jackson started going all weird too; he’s my best friend, as if I wouldn’t notice something was up. And do you guys realise how loudly you talk about all that stuff? Most people would think you were playing some weird game but I figured it out because I’m close with Jackson and Lydia.’

‘So does Jackson know you figured it all out?’

‘Yeah. He was glad. He said it made it easier not having to keep secrets from me anymore. He’s actually planning on visiting sometime this coming year.’

Stiles grimaced.

‘Great.’

‘I know you two didn’t get along, but I know he’s grateful for your help when he was first turned.’

‘You mean when he was a ferocious, killing lizard monster man? The lizard monster man who paralysed me and killed someone under my car? Is that what you mean?’

‘Yeah, sounds about right.’ Danny smirked at him and gulped his drink. ‘I also know what happened to Allison. Lydia told me.’ Stiles shuffled his feet. He was suddenly even more desperate to escape and crawl into bed, perhaps Derek’s, and hold a pillow over his face. ‘She’ll be ok.’

‘What?’

‘She’ll be ok. I think she’s gonna pull through.’

‘You think?’

‘Yeah, I’ve seen a lot worse. My cousin’s husband was in a coma for two years and one day he just woke up. Strange things happen and that’s not even accounting for Beacon Hills.’

Two years. Stiles couldn’t stand the thought of struggling with the guilt within him for another two years. The constant worry that she’d die, or remain a vegetable for the rest of her life. The stress of having to avoid any conversation about her condition or why it happened. Avoiding his friends as they grew to hate him for what he’d done, for being too scared to even visit her lifeless body in the hospital. Danny looked as if he were about to say something else when Lydia came swanning in and put a hand on Stiles’ arm.

‘Excuse us, Danny. Can I borrow Stiles for a moment?’

‘Sure.’ Danny moved along with his beer and Stiles allowed Lydia to lead him out to the more secluded pantry behind the kitchen. She shut the door behind them and turned to face Stiles, hands on her hips.

‘Look, I know what you did yesterday.’

Stiles felt a sweat creeping up along his back.

‘You do?’

‘Yes. And if what I said to you made you run off like that…then I’m sorry.’

Stiles gawped at her, not sure what she was referring to. And then his lie sprung back into mind.

‘Oh that. Oh, umm…’

‘I meant what I said,’ Lydia continued in full force, clearly wanting to get her thoughts across before she changed her mind. ‘that you should see her. But I’m sorry if I hurt you. You are the furthest thing from selfish. I…’ She relaxed her pose, her arms coming to hang by her sides. ‘I know how hard it must be for you. But you shouldn’t feel guilty for something you didn’t do and you can’t let that stop you from seeing her. But what I said was wrong. I’m sorry.’

Stiles moved towards her and took her hands.

‘Lyds, I’m fine. You only said what I needed to hear. And I am being selfish and I know…I just don’t want to pass the guilt onto you so just know that there is nothing you could say to me that would stop me from wanting to be your friend.’

Lydia’s hard expression crumbled and she pulled him into a hug before quickly leaving the pantry. Stiles rubbed his suddenly tired eyes and moved back into the throng of people. The last thing he had wanted was to make anyone else feel as terrible as he did. Yet, so far he’d managed to scare the crap out of his father and Scott and make Lydia feel guilty for scaring him away, or as only Stiles knew, into Derek’s arms. But at least with Lydia back on his side, he could more easily enjoy the company of his friends. So, for the next couple of hours, he joined in the festivities.

However, his mind was still distracted by guilt and he felt the now normal gloom descending over him, but he managed to keep his spirits up enough to enjoy the night. It didn’t stop him from fiddling with his phone, though, finding himself constantly checking for missed messages or calls. With a few more rum and Cokes down the hatch, he began to directly think of Derek and wondered if he might be able to make another visit to the sourwolf. But he controlled himself and knew it was the alcohol lowering his inhibitions. And yet, as the music pounded around him, thumping through his chest, the lights dancing off the walls and the whole room a blur of colour and excitable laughter, when the final few minutes of the year rolled by, he found himself typing out a message to Derek in the hopes that it may bring some closure to the fleeting connection they had made.

**Stiles:** _I know things got a little weird between us and I know it was my fault. I needed some release from everything going on around me but I know that I can’t rely on you for that. We can forget all about it if that’s what you want? Either way, I’m sorry. And thanks. Happy New Year, Derek._

And as the last seconds before twelve ticked by, his phone chimed.

**Derek:** _Happy New Year, Stiles._

Derek’s answer was clear.

xxx

Elsewhere in Beacon Hills, with a viewpoint of the city, all lit up with Christmas lights and fireworks, while the clock counted down the seconds to the New Year, a trigger was pulled and a sleek, silver bullet spun through the cool night air, past the mask of the dense forest, and punctured flesh. And at the end of the barrel, a smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Depending on how well this chapter does, I might upload another one tonight.  
> Let me know if you like it :)  
> Thanks for reading!


	12. Control

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello. Second chapter of the day! Aren't you lucky ;)  
> This chapter has Stiles going a little overboard with his need to find a distraction through research and Derek trying to stick to his resolve. The poor boys.  
> I hope you enjoy.

Thursday, 1st January

In the groggy hours of the early morning sun, when the birds just begin to chirp, promises are often made. On the morning of January first, Stiles, eyes blurred with lack of sleep and a head already pulsing with a hangover, promised himself he’d never drink again. He knew it was farfetched but comforted himself with the thought that he’d never inflict such pain on himself in the future. He’d been woken by the sound of his father returning home from the station, his night proving even livelier than Stiles’. He’d texted Stiles to tell him that there had been another shooting but this time the victim had died at the scene. Stiles, in his intoxicated state, had given it little thought. Instead, he let his mind wander under the influence of alcohol, the room and his worries blurring into dull hues of their real colour. From what he could remember, he’d spent most of the night sat on the sofa, tipping back half a bottle of rum. He also remembered several shots of vodka being shoved into his hands and he’d taken them willingly. He also remembered Scott’s face appearing in front of him and a taxi. Apart from those few details, the evening was a black dot in his memory. He hoped he hadn’t done anything stupid. The last time he’d been that drunk, he’d set the ball rolling on what was now a futile, mutual attraction between himself and Derek. He knew alcohol could ease the anguish he was suffering from but at the same time, he knew it led him to foolish mistakes.

He tried to get a few more hours rest, but the alcohol in his system kept him from sleeping deeply and when he woke again at midday, he felt no more rested than he had at six am. He forced himself out of bed to get a glass of water, praying his father had made some coffee. He trudged down the stairs, wincing at each thump of his foot against the hard wood floor, and met his dad in the kitchen.

‘Afternoon.’ his dad said with a smirk.

Stiles grunted in response and grabbed at the coffee and water his dad held out for him. He downed the water, along with two pain killers his dad had placed on the breakfast bar, and then sipped at his coffee. He perched up on one of the breakfast bar stools and missed the way his backside tweaked in pain from his night with Derek. The pain had lasted for a couple days but Stiles found he didn’t mind. In fact, he all but mourned the loss of the pain, the feeling of Derek within him. He’d held onto those moments of passion which gave him freedom, a spark of life which he’d been sure he’d lost.

When Stiles was feeling more human again, he engaged his father in conversation. He asked about the shooting to which his father grimaced.

‘It’s a tricky one. There still appears to be no incentive, no obvious reason to shoot so many people. And we can’t even tell if this victim was meant to die. It could have been a mistake. And no one in the area is licenced to use the type of gun that would take this type of silver bullet and there also isn’t anywhere for miles that makes silver bullets. I can’t check any suppliers to find out who is buying silver bullets because it would take me away from the station so Deputy Sanchez is going to have to stay as the head of the case. It just frustrates me, not being able to do anything.’

‘If there isn’t anything to do, and Deputy Sanchez is working on it, you shouldn’t let it bother you. You’ve got other things to worry about.’

The Sheriff sighed, hands on hips from his frustrated pacing around the room, and nodded.

‘You’re right. I do.’ He turned to look at Stiles. ‘You.’

‘Me?’

‘Yes, you. You cause me more worry than all my cases put together.’ He leant across the bar a little. ‘You ok?’

‘Other than the hammering going on up here,’ He pointed to his head. ‘I’m fine.’

‘That head of yours has taken a hammering from more than just a hangover. You’ve been through a lot. I worry about how you’re coping. Scott tells me you’ve still not been to see Allison.’

‘She doesn’t need me there.’

‘How do you know that?’

‘Dad, just leave it.’

‘Stiles, you can’t run away from this. You can’t hide from your friends.’

‘I’m not. I went to Lydia’s party last night, didn’t I?’

‘That’s not what I mean. Emotionally you’ve been distant from them. And me. I want to help you but I don’t know how if you don’t tell me how you’re feeling.’

‘I just don’t want to talk about it.’

‘I know you don’t.’ The Sheriff looked at his son, a long lingering look. ‘I love you, Stiles. Whatever has happened in the past and whatever happens in the future, I love you. Just remember that.’

Stiles dipped his head and nodded. He loved him too, so much but his throat was blocked and he was afraid to speak. He got down from his seat, taking his mug of coffee with him and made for the stairs. He turned back, clearing his throat with a cough.

‘If it makes you feel any better, Scott and Derek are both looking into the shootings. They’re going to talk to Chris Argent. He might be able to come up with a lead.’

The Sheriff barked a laugh.

‘I wonder what Sanchez would make of all this werewolf business. Poor bloke, he has no idea what he’s gotten himself into.’

xxx

Saturday, 3rd January

A couple of days later, Stiles found himself in Scott’s back garden, a ball bouncing between their feet. Scott had wanted to discuss the shooting and Stiles had used it as an excuse to go over and play some soccer. However, Scott seemed to have little enthusiasm and the excitement he’d felt during the game with Derek wasn’t there. It was laboured with heavy concerns from both parties and ended with the ball being half-heartedly kicked through the grass.

‘And we still haven’t decided who should talk to Chris. No one wants to do it.’

‘It’s hardly surprising though, is it?’

‘I know.’ Scott gave the ball a surprisingly hard kick. Stiles leapt a little to catch it with his toe and bounced it a little before kicking it back. ‘I guess I should do it, really. Or Derek. We know him better than anyone else. Derek can be a little brash though. He doesn’t seem very sensitive to other people’s feelings.’

‘I don’t think that’s fair.’ Stiles bit back. ‘He was really good with me the other day after you guys left.’ Stiles almost blushed at the memory of just how good he’d been.

‘What exactly did you guys do? I thought you went off in your jeep.’

Stiles halted, reminding himself of how little of the truth Scott knew.

‘Uh, yeah. I did. But Derek and I talked a bit first. He was really kind to me.’

‘Weird. I’ve always thought you two didn’t like each other.’

Stiles shrugged.

‘First impressions can be deceiving, I suppose.’

‘Guess so.’

They moved back inside when Scott complained about the drop in temperature. When they were back in the warmth of Scott’s room, settled in front of the TV, gaming controllers in hand, Scott got out his phone and called Derek. Stiles’ acted nonchalant as Scott spoke to Derek, starting up a single player game. He could hear Derek on the other end of the line and prayed Scott was too distracted to hear the leaping in his chest.

‘Yeah, I’m gonna go see him tonight…Stiles and I spoke about it and decided I would be the best one to do it. I’m still not very comfortable with it, but I know we haven’t got any other options left…Yeah, I’ll call you to let you know…see ya.’

He hung up and tossed his phone on the bed and picked up his controller.

‘If Chris does know something, should we have another pack meeting?’ Stiles asked innocently, keeping his eyes on the screen. He ignored the voice in his head which leapt in excitement at the thought of seeing Derek again.

‘Dunno, I guess it depends what he knows. It might not be worth getting everyone together.’

Stiles nodded along although his mood sank a little.

Later that evening, when Stiles was lying on his bed, looking at the patterns in the ceiling paint, Scott called after his visit to Allison and Chris. It turned out he knew of no hunting family’s or groups who still used silver bullets. He had said it was impractical and too expensive for anyone to use them as a genuine weapon against werewolves as it was no more affective on them as any other bullet. It was all information they knew, or at least suspected, and it left them with a dead end. Scott had said he’d text the others and call Derek. There was no need to hold another meeting. Stiles was disappointed and scolded himself for feeling so. He shouldn’t be thinking of Derek when people were being killed, potentially by werewolf hunters.

Stiles sat up and moved to his desk, opening his laptop and prepared himself for another night of research.

xxx

Sunday, 4th January

The knock on his door on Sunday morning had come as a surprise to Derek. He’d kept himself focused enough that his heightened senses tuned out and he’d missed the sound of the car pulling up to the building, or the feet on the stone steps or the smell of a new arrival to his front door. He stood from the sofa and went to open the door. By the time he got there, his senses had kicked back in and he knew Stiles was waiting on the other side.

‘Hello?’ he greeted when Stiles’ face came into view.

‘Hi.’ Stiles said quickly, barging his way into the loft. ‘I have something I wanted to show you. I know Scott told you that Chris didn’t know anything but-’ Stiles stopped in his tracks when he noticed the other figure in the room. Isaac was sat on the sofa, his arms crossed over his chest, his face looking a little drawn. ‘Oh. You’re here.’

‘I was just going.’ Isaac said quietly, removing himself from the seat and walking to the door. He stopped by Derek who was still stood, holding the door open. ‘Thanks, I’ll call you later.’

Derek put a comforting hand on his back and nodded in farewell. He shut the door and turned to Stiles.

‘You were saying.’ He moved to where Stiles stood and plonked himself down on the sofa again.

‘Umm…yeah…’ Stiles looked back at the door, then back to Derek. ‘You give counselling to everyone in the pack?’ he joked. Derek shrugged.

‘Not the kind you were after.’

Stiles’ grin faltered. Derek felt a little guilty as Stiles flailed, dropping his bag onto the floor and shuffling his feet. However, he knew he needed to be blunt with the boy. He knew that if he was at all vague, Stiles would get the wrong impression and his mind would cartwheel out of control. Isaac had asked to see Derek to talk about his powers during the full moon. He’d struggled with his powers in general since Allison had been taken to hospital and Derek suggested, from his own experience, that it was emotional stress causing the problem. He assured him that, with time, he’d be back to full strength. Isaac hadn’t seemed too sure. With Boyd and Erica dead and Allison hanging on by a thread, Isaac had very few people rely upon. He still had Scott and Melissa who made sure he was physically well but emotionally he was all alone. Derek supposed Stiles probably felt the same way and wondered if they might not be able to find solace in each other if they weren’t constantly at each other’s throats. They were as bad as each other. Isaac used his supernatural dominance over Stiles to account for Stiles’ superior intelligence. Isaac was by no means stupid, but Stiles…Stiles was something else. His mind worked in mysterious ways, always churning, always observing, cataloguing, analysing. It was no wonder he was having trouble “switching off” with a mind that ran a mile a minute the moment it hit the ground.

‘I had something to show you.’ Stiles said eventually, taking a seat, his bag open at his feet. He took out a stack of papers and laid them out on the table. From the first sheet, Derek could see a mass of highlighted lines of text, a clear sign that Stiles had been up all night. ‘Ok, so Chris didn’t know of any hunters that still use silver bullets but how far can his knowledge of hunting families go? In the area and the neighbouring states, yeah, I guess he probably has a lot of connections. But that doesn’t mean there aren’t people from further afield. For all we know these people could be as far as from the East Coast. Or maybe out of America- but I haven’t looked into that yet.’

‘The East Coast?’

‘Yeah.’ Stiles took one sheet from the pile. ‘Look here. I was doing some research on the online archives at the station-’

‘So you hacked into their system?’

‘Is it really hacking when you steal the login details from your dad’s desk?’

Derek rolled his eyes.

‘Continue.’

‘So, I was looking at all shootings in the area that involved multiple victims and no deaths. I know the last guy died but we can be sure if that wasn’t just a mistake yet.’ Stiles picked up another couple pieces of paper. ‘I didn’t find much in Beacon Hills or in the towns nearby. Most of the shootings were one offs and/or the victim was killed.’ Another page. ‘I moved further afield in the state and got several results but none involving silver bullets. After that, I broadened the search to other states, moving gradually across to the East Coast. I found four cases of silver bullets being used in the shooting of young males. The first was from several years ago, I can only assume that’s why my dad didn’t find it; the database wouldn’t have brought the case up because it was too old and in a different state. That was in West Virginia but the two guys who were killed, whether they looked like Scott or not, can’t be relevant because it was so long ago. However, the next was only two years ago in Missouri. Only one guy was killed but it was with a silver bullet so I couldn’t ignore it. According to the report he was Asian so, once again, no tie to Scott there. The other two cases were in New Mexico and Idaho. In New Mexico, again, only one person was shot but not killed, and in Idaho an entire family were killed, all with silver bullets. They found the gun in the guy’s hand and they stamped it as a family suicide but later reports suggest the gunshot wound in his head didn't quite match the angle of the gun in his hand. So, the way it looks to me is that this person, or family, or group, whatever, are moving across America, killing people. The fact that they have only struck a handful of times suggest that they’re looking for something or someone.’

Stiles turned to Derek with wide eyes, holding a few sheets in tight fisted fingers.

‘Wow, ok I think you need to slow down and maybe cut back on the coffee.’ Stiles reeled back, halting in his long explanation of the scattered papers across Derek’s coffee table and floor. ‘You’ve been up all night and you’ve found some information about shootings and silver bullets and you’re running with it, full pelt. Apart from the silver bullets, I don’t see much of a connection between these cases.’

‘But you don’t need anything more than one link between them all to take the information further. If it’s so impractical to use silver bullets, as Chris said, then surely this has got to be the same people?’

‘Ok, maybe you’re right about that. But what do they want? And why are they shooting people at random in Beacon Hills when in…’ Derek leant forward and picked up one of the pages. ‘Idaho, they killed an entire family in one go?’

Stiles bit his lip.

‘Yeah, that’s where I’ve hit road works.’

‘Ok, then that’s where you need to stop. At least for now.’ Derek added as Stiles indicated a protest.

‘But if we could just find out if the people who were killed were werewolves, then we’d know if these people are hunters of just run-of-the-mill killers.’

‘And how do we find that out?’

Stiles scrunched up his face.

‘More road works there.' Derek sighed but Stiles jumped in with more. 'But if they were werewolves, then we need to find out how they killed them because it can’t have been the silver bullets. Maybe they were laced with something. Although, none of the bullets from the shootings in Beacon Hills had anything suspicious on them. It would have been in the reports if there were.’

‘Look, this all comes back to the fact that silver can’t kill werewolves and anyone wanting to kill werewolves would know that. Therefore, I think we can just leave all this to the professionals. You said the Sheriff had put a new Deputy on the case. Let him figure it all out because from the way it looks to me, this has nothing to do with werewolves or hunters.’

‘You didn’t seem so sure the other day.’

‘Well, things change.’

‘Is this because of what Chris said?’ Derek’s silence answered Stiles’ question. ‘Just because he doesn’t know any werewolf hunters who use silver bullets doesn’t mean they’re not out there. Or do you trust his word more than you trust mine?’ Derek was quiet again. He had to admit, he felt more at ease after hearing what Chris had to say. ‘I’m just trying to help. I don’t want anyone else to…’ Stiles petered off, eyes downcast.

Derek knew they’d stumbled onto a difficult subject and put the brakes on the conversation. He could see now, more than ever, the change in Stiles. The old Stiles would have fought back, argued that just because he wasn’t a trained hunter didn’t mean that what he said was any less important and that Derek should shut up and listen to him. But this Stiles, this wounded, defenceless Stiles, shrunk away, too afraid of hurting someone to speak.

‘Stiles, this isn’t a competition for who is right or who we trust more. I couldn’t care less where the information came from as long as it gets us somewhere. But in this case, I don’t know if it does and it seems to me that you’re taking this too far.’

Stiles shuffled some paper and took a long breath.

‘But maybe this is what I need to clear my mind. I need to do something. I need to be active and helping my dad with a case and potentially saving my friends’ lives at the same time can’t be a bad way to keep myself sane.’ He gave an exasperated laugh.

‘It doesn’t sound sane to me.’ Derek said flatly, catching Stiles’ eye and holding his gaze. ‘You told me you wanted to clear you mind, not overload it. Stiles, you’re going to drive yourself mad. What if you don’t find anything? You’ll be in constant fear that someone will get hurt and you won’t be able to do anything about it.’

Stiles looked away, shaking his head slowly.

‘Derek, that’s how I feel every second of every day. I can never shake the feeling of absolute terror that I might get someone I love killed because I couldn’t do something, because I wasn’t strong enough. Research is the only thing I can give to this pack. I can’t fight or save the day but I can bloody well try to give you as much of a head start as I can.’ His voice hitched and he must have realised he’d become rattled as he put his head in his hands.

Derek watched him struggle inwardly. It was difficult to see in someone so young, someone who reminded Derek so much of himself. With Stiles’ face still hidden in the palms of his hands, Derek reached over and placed his own hand on Stiles’ thigh. He looked to the floor as he squeezed his knee in what he hoped was comfort. With physical pain he could take the burden but with the pain Stiles was dealing with, the best he could hope for was to offer support and sometimes touch was all that was needed.

Derek knew that was what Stiles’ craved. He could feel Stiles’ eyes on him. He’d lowered his hands and was looking at Derek. He could hear the rising rapidity of his heartbeat, his breaths becoming shallower. He knew what this was leading to but he found himself unable and unwilling to stop it.

Derek watched with slightly parted lips as Stiles turned to him, pulling his t shirt up over his head. It was bunched up around his shoulders as he climbed onto Derek's lap, straddling his legs. Derek slipped a hand under Stiles bum, the other holding onto his calf. His lips ghosted over the slight stubble on Stiles jaw as the t-shirt fell to the floor between his feet. Stiles brought their lips together, rough and wet. He was needy and Derek could sense how desperate he was for his touch. As once before, they made their way upstairs, only this time around, Stiles took no time to look around the apartment. He was on Derek like a limpet, their lips never parting as Derek tried to manoeuvre them to the bedroom. Stiles didn’t seem able to wait as he redirected them to the living room and they toppled over onto the sofa. Stiles pawed at his clothes, tugging the t shirt over his head and proceeding to kiss at his chest. Derek held Stiles’ chin, forcing their lips back together. It was messy and lacked grace but neither of them cared. They were too wrapped up in each other to worry. Derek began to undo Stiles’ jeans, pulling them away. He was wearing tight, black briefs and Derek’s mouth watered at the sight. He ripped them off and, without hesitation, pushed his lips over Stiles’ erect member.

‘Oh god…Derek…’ The sensation of Stiles inside his mouth was more pleasurable than Derek had anticipated. The taste of his salty precum wasn’t exactly pleasant, but the sounds his tongue could elicit from Stiles was more than enough encouragement to keep going. He relaxed his jaw and throat as Stiles bucked into his mouth but he gagged none the less and felt heat seep into his cheeks. ‘Sorry, it just feels so good.’ Stiles moaned, rolling his hips. With a sense of reassurance, Derek gripped Stiles’ hips and dragged him closer, holding him down and forcing Stiles deeper down his throat. Stiles cried out in approval and they kept a steady rhythm until Stiles’ fingers clawed at Derek’s arms and he was cuming into Derek’s mouth. Derek battled it down, not wanting to ruin Stiles’ orgasm by pulling away. When Stiles had finished writhing beneath him, Derek stood and walked to the kitchen to get some water. He downed half a bottle before re-joining Stiles, pulling down his own jeans which were becoming unbearably tight. ‘You ok?’ Stiles asked, his lips fat with kissing, eyes glazed with orgasm.

‘Fine. Come here.’ Derek commanded. Stiles didn’t argue and stood, hurrying to Derek who picked him up, Stiles’ legs around his waist, and ran him into the wall. They kissed thoroughly, Stiles cupping Derek’s face. Derek held Stiles under his thighs, squeezing the thick muscles. They felt so good in his large hands, hard and sculptured, more than he’d ever realised. Stiles had a good body. He hid it well under his loose fitting clothes and goofy disposition. His skin was also unbearably smooth. Derek loved the feel of it against his lips and brushed them against Stiles’ neck. ‘Bedroom.’ he breathed against the warm skin, turning to carry Stiles to his room. Stiles only groaned in agreement.

Derek’s heart began to skip at the thought of being buried to the hilt inside Stiles’ hot, tight body once more. He’d told himself, and Stiles, that this couldn’t happen again but he knew, as each second went by, his resolve would continue to melt away until he was unable to keep his hands off the boy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked it. Thanks for reading.  
> Please leave a comment. It makes this so much more worth while if I know you like it.


	13. Frustration

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello.  
> Sorry for updating later than usual. I was hoping for some more comments on the last chapter before I posted another ;)  
> The boys are both frustrated in this chapter. I'm so mean to them.  
> Enjoy!

Sunday, 4th January

Stiles left a few hours later. They’d lain in bed in post-orgasm bliss, both unable to draw the strength to move. Derek had given Stiles everything he had, ripping all sorts of sounds from his noisy little mouth. But Derek had acted indifferent when Stiles asked him ‘how was that?’. It was best not to encourage the boy too much when Derek was trying desperately to resist tying him to the bed and keeping him there forever.

The time passed easily, Stiles drifting in and out of sleep for a while. At one point, when he rolled onto his side, his arm draped across Derek’s chest. Derek hadn’t the heart to move it, simply watching him sleep soundly. When he began to stir, Derek rolled away to avoid an awkward moment. It was strange that during the throws of passion there was no concern given to any touch. Nothing was off limits and they had intertwined their bodies as much as physically possible. Yet, when the passion had simmered, Derek found himself unwilling to touch Stiles, his mind focused enough to know the repercussions of his actions. But even with the memory of their activities only a couple of hours old, Derek fought back his excitement as Stiles stretched his arms up, chest muscles quivering under skin.

‘You should get home.’

Stiles sighed.

‘Yeah, guess so. I should be there when my dad gets back.’

Derek climbed out of bed and began dressing, Stiles doing the same on the other side of the bed. They finished at the same time and both rose to leave the room. They stood opposite one another at the door, both waiting for the other to leave first. The post sex awkwardness was descending, the feeling Derek had been hoping to avoid by putting an end to their activities the first time he had eaten the forbidden fruit. Eventually, Derek went for the door and saved them both further embarrassment. They walked out into the kitchen, Stiles stopping to tie up his laces.

‘I better go down and sort out my stuff.’

Derek looked at him, wondering if he was still as determined as before about his theories.

‘Take what you’ve found to you dad and leave it there.’

Stiles scowled.

‘Don’t talk about it like it’s meaningless crap that needs throwing out. I really think I’m onto something.’ Derek scoffed and went to the fridge for something to drink. ‘God, you really are a jerk. Just when I was thinking…’ Stiles suddenly held his tongue, for once, and Derek turned to him with a raised brow.

‘Thinking what, Stiles?’

‘Nothing.’

‘No, thinking what?’ He closed the fridge door and turned on Stiles. ‘Don’t start thinking that, just because I fucked you, we’re suddenly an item. Or that this’ he pointed to the bedroom, ‘is going to become a regular thing. I told you before that this should stop now. I’m not interested in taking this any further.’ Stiles’ mouth mimicked a fish, opening and closing around a loss of words. ‘Get your stuff and go. I’m sure your dad will love to hear all your crackpot ideas.’

Stiles seemed to regain his senses as his scowl deepened to a look of disgust and he stormed from the apartment.

‘Fuck you.’ he spat as he slammed the door shut behind him.

Derek’s gut churned but he knew he’d done the right thing. He’d put the situation to bed and he could finally get back to his own, marginally, less complicated life. He grabbed the abandoned bottle of water from earlier, the memory of the taste of Stiles’ cum dancing across his tongue, but was unable to explain the slight shake of his hand as he took a sip.Hhh

 

xxx

The boiling anger in Stiles’ blood propelled him all the way to the Sheriff’s station. He gripped the steering wheel, knuckles white and painful. His research was thrown messily on the passenger seat, creased from where Stiles had grabbed it up in frustration before he left Derek’s loft. He pulled up to the final set of traffic lights before the station and waited for the light to change. He breathed deeply, trying to dispel his anger before he saw his dad. He just couldn’t believe Derek could go from being so understanding and kind, so passionate and tender, to an outright arsehole in a matter of seconds. Stiles had begun to like him, to think he was a good guy but he was still the pompous, arrogant, selfish jerk he’d always been.

But…

Stiles’ mind rewound to only a few hours earlier, Derek’s tongue on his body, around his cock. Stiles had lain in a trance, the realisation that Derek had never performed such pleasure on another man before sending him over the edge much faster than he had desired. And in the bedroom, Derek had held him so tightly, forcing their bodies together until they were almost one. Stiles’ vision had gone white and spotted as it had once before, the strength of the man behind him unimaginable. He’d allowed Derek to manoeuvre his body any way he liked, his limbs going limp under the height of pleasure that ricocheted throughout his body. At one point, his hands and knees had begun to shake with the effort of holding himself up with the weight of Derek bearing down on his from behind. Derek had noticed and flipped them over, dragging Stiles to the edge of the bed by the back of his knees and forcing himself back in, losing only a beat or two. He’d watch Derek’s face, held in a frown of concentration and pleasure, his eyes closing on particularly deep thrusts. He’d grunted too, sending sparks of delight along Stiles’ nerves. To get even closer, Derek grabbed Stiles’ right leg and pulled him over onto his side, Stiles’ leg pressed against Derek’s body, held up by Derek’s hand. Lying on his side, Stiles buried his face in the sheets and cried out at every thrust, each one deeper than the last. It hadn’t taken long after than for Stiles to tumble over the edge and he cried out loudly as he came. It only served to spur Derek on further and he picked up the pace until he, too, was cuming in hard shudders which rocked through Stiles’ body. And as with the first time, Stiles had struggled against the tides of sleep which came with the warm afterglow of mind blowing sex. And when Stiles had woken, Derek was back to the cold, heartless jerk Stiles’ had first met.

Stiles slammed a hand down on the steering wheel in exasperation. It just didn’t make sense. Why would Derek go through the trouble of helping Stiles so many times if he didn’t care? And the way he’d held Stiles, kissed him and made love to him just didn’t line up with the way he’d treated Stiles like he wasn’t worth shit. Stiles knew there was something more to Derek than he was letting on. He also knew that no matter what Derek said, he had enjoyed the sex as much as Stiles had. And Stiles knew he didn’t want to let it end just yet.

The light turned green and Stiles drove on, coming to the station a little further down the road. He pulled into a space and collected his papers up. He straightened them out, smoothing the creases. He knew he was onto something. Derek was just hot headed and refused to see what was right under his nose but Stiles knew he could convince his dad to take him seriously.

He walked into the station and greeted the officer behind the desk who obviously recognised him. She let him through to his dad’s office.

‘Hey, Dad.’

The Sheriff looked up from his desk.

‘Stiles? What are you doing here?’ The Sheriff stood and moved towards his son. He looked incredibly busy, as per usual, but he left his work to see his son. He looked Stiles up and down, as if looking for injury. Stiles could tell his dad was worried about him. He knew he’d been distant from him and it was causing his father concern. He felt guilty for it but still couldn’t bring himself to confide his worries in his dad as he had Derek. As the Sheriff, he didn’t need anyone else’s worries weighing him down.

‘I just wanted to talk to you about some research I’ve done.’

‘Research?’

‘Yeah, about the shootings.’ Stiles held the stack of papers up.

‘Oh, right.’ The Sheriff looked at his watch and back to his desk. He bit his lip. ‘I’d really like to hear about it, kiddo, but I’m just racing against the clock here. The work is piling up and-’

‘It’s fine, I’ll go.’ Stiles turned to leave but his dad caught his arm.

‘No, no. I can’t look at it now but I will later. For now, you can show it to Deputy Sanchez.’ His dad smiled and led him out of his office.

‘Umm, well I don’t know-’

Stiles stopped short when his dad halted in front of a young man who stood at the desk, talking to the officer Stiles had spoken to earlier.

‘Stiles, this is Deputy Sanchez. Sanchez, my son, Stiles.’ The Sheriff clapped Stiles on the shoulder and smiled to the deputy. ‘Stiles has been looking into the use of silver bullets for me and has something he wants to discuss.’ He looked back to Stiles. ‘Sanchez has taken on the case. If you want to talk to someone about it, talk to Sanchez.’

Stiles nodded with a smile as his dad patted him on the back again and went back into his office but wondered if his dad was being serious. How was he supposed to talk to someone who knew nothing about the supernatural world about the possibility of the recent shootings being an attack on his best friend, the werewolf? However, Sanchez stood before him, smiling expectantly. Stiles smiled tightly back and followed the deputy to his desk.

‘Let’s have a look at what you’ve got.’ he said, taking his seat and holding his hands out for Stiles’ stack of paper. Stiles was a little surprised. He was used to his father’s deputies ignoring him or not taking him seriously when he tried to give his input in the cases they were dealing with. He supposed many of them objected to a having a teenage boy tell them their research was wrong or solve the case for them. But in Stiles’ eyes, they should just do their jobs properly and then Stiles wouldn’t need to step in. But Sanchez seemed honestly interested in what Stiles had to say. Stiles handed over the papers and sat down opposite the young deputy. As he read, Stiles explained his thoughts, keeping the supernatural theories to himself.

‘So, basically I think these must be the same people because of the use of silver bullets in each case. No one uses silver bullets anymore. They’re more expensive, less accurate and slower. It makes no sense to use them, except for this person or people, whoever they are.’

‘It does seem possible. I mean, the distance these people have travelled is vast but it’s been over a long period. It seems strange that they would go so far only to attack a handful of people. And for seemingly nothing.’

‘Maybe they’re looking for something? Something special.’

Sanchez held Stiles gaze for a long moment and look back to the papers.

‘Well, that might explain the extensive travelling.’ He hummed over Stiles’ research a little longer, Stiles examining him from across the desk. He was young for a deputy, probably late twenties, with dark hair and eyes. His jaw was hard and smooth, skin olive brown. He reminded Stiles of Derek, apart from the lack of hazel green eyes and dark stubble. ‘You’ve really gone to a lot of trouble here.’

Stiles shrugged.

‘If it helps my dad, I don’t mind.’

Sanchez smiled.

‘It’s good work too. Have you ever thought about working in the force?’

‘Yeah, it’s a possibility. I’ve thought about being a detective.’

‘You should.’

Stiles blushed a little at the compliment. Sanchez put the papers down.

‘Would you mind if I kept these? I want to go through them in more detail.’

‘Yeah, that’s fine. I’ve got it all saved on my laptop.’

‘Great. I’ll hold onto these then. And if you find anything else, don’t hesitate to come back in to see me.’ Sanchez smiled at Stiles in a way that was different from before. Stiles stood and nodded. ‘Hopefully I’ll see you again soon.’

‘Yeah…’ Stiles raised a hand in goodbye and left the station with a wave to his father through the glass partition of his office. Walking to the door, ready to brace himself for the cooler air outside, he ignored the feeling of eyes on his back and hurried off to his car. The new school semester started the next day and he still had unfinished homework to attend to.

xxx

Derek looked down at the grey liquid in the plastic cup he was holding, steadily regretting his decision to buy a cup of tea from the hospital canteen. There was nothing drearier than the canteen of a hospital, where the family members of dying patients ate in silence, only just able to stomach the gruel served to them by disinterested kitchen staff. He made a mental note to himself not to risk any other beverages from the canteen in the future, looking around himself for a bin. There were none in sight and he scowled. He was damned if he was going to drink the tepid, tasteless dishwater but without a bin in sight, he was left with little other option. He was walking up to the floor where Allison’s room was, several floors above the canteen. He’d made a detour from his usually direct route in the hopes of warming himself up from the cold winter chill of the evening. After the heat of his earlier activities, the night air was rather biting.

He sighed internally. He knew he’d made a mistake in indulging himself and Stiles but it was difficult to refuse oneself something when the “thing” you wanted was so willing. He could only pray he’d scared the boy off and he could go back to being an irritable recluse.

He got to Allison’s room, his cup of tea still disappointingly half full. He looked around the corridor on which her room was located and spotted a bin just before the door. He stepped up and gladly tipped the cup inside, looking in through the window beside the door. She was there, as she always was, only this time her hair was plaited on the other side, curtesy of Lydia, and her nails looked freshly painted. The only major difference in the room was the absence of her father. Derek peered in but was sure Chris was not there. It was a surprise; Derek had never seen him away from her side. He looked down the corridor but he was nowhere to be seen. Maybe he’d gone home for a change of clothes, or something to eat. Derek looked up and down the corridor again before pushing the door open and slipping inside.

The sound of the machines, Allison’s only sign of life, became a little more real on the other side of the door. It was as if the realisation of what had happened to her was only just becoming apparent and Derek could feel his chest tighten. He’d never been close to the girl but she was so young, too young. Derek had watched his girlfriend and family die, all of them before their time. He didn’t want to see it happening again.

He sat down in the vacant seat beside her bed, eyes scanning her pale skin, made even more obvious against the stark contrast of her dark hair. She looked peaceful, like she was simply asleep and would wake at any moment, refreshed and well rested. The wires and tubes attached to her told another story but it was easy to ignore them and forget the very strong possibility that she might never awaken. Derek supposed he could understand Stiles’ reservations about visiting her. It would be difficult watching someone you love lie in a state of limbo, neither dead nor truly alive, especially when you believed you were the cause of it.

Derek reach out a hand, fingers just lightly touching the cool skin of her arm, when a voice cut straight through him, his mind jerking back to his surroundings.

‘You don’t usually come in.’ Chris said with a sad smile, leaning on the frame of the door. Derek retracted his hand and sat back in the seat. ‘It’s good of you to come though. She’d appreciate it, I’m sure.’ Derek must have looked confused as Chris stepped into the room with a tired chuckle. ‘You didn’t really think I hadn’t noticed, did you? I trained as a werewolf hunter all my life; I think I’d know when one is standing right behind me, even through a window.’

Derek gave a smile himself, one of irony. He’d been so careful to keep his distance and for nothing. He should have known Chris’ hunting skills would still be active even during his time of grief.

‘I guess I didn’t want to intrude. We were never exactly close.’ Derek said, looking to Allison. Chris went to stand on the other side of her bed, hand running along her soft hair.

‘After everything that happened with Victoria, I don’t suppose she’ll ever be able to look at you without at least some resentment.’

Derek nodded, understanding fully.

‘I guess I feel the same about Kate.’

Chris nodded, too.

‘What she did to you and your family was inexcusable. I won’t try to justify her actions.’

Derek gave no reply. There was no need for one. The things Kate had done to his family were nothing compared to what Derek had done. At the end of the day, Derek had led Kate right to them, allowing his grief of losing Paige to consume him and any semblance of logic and reason he had. He’d taken the easy way out of his suffering, seeking pleasure as the key to locking away those painful memories. Derek felt time was repeating itself but was thankful Stiles had turned to him in his time of need and not some stranger who could break him in so many ways, if they wanted to.

Derek remained silent as he stood from the seat and offered it back to Chris. Chris nodded in thanks and rearranged the seat to how he’d left it, so that he was facing up Allison’s bed.

‘I…I like to sit like this, so that…’ he cleared his throat. ‘so that when she wakes up…’

‘When she wakes up, you’re the first thing she sees.’ Derek filled in quietly. Chris nodded again.

‘I don’t want her to be afraid.’

‘She’ll be fine. She’s a brave girl.’

‘She is. She’s braver than me.’ Chris bent his head, one arm stretched out to rest a hand on her leg. She was covered with a blanket and his fingers curled around the material. ‘They’ve all been so brave. Those kids have been through far too much recently. We all need some time to heal.’ Chris smiled. ‘Lydia has been coming to do her hair and nails and Scott comes to tell her about school. Kira and her mother have been a lot but Kira doesn’t say much. I guess it can be hard to think of something to say to someone who can’t hear or understand you. Isaac’s the same. He just stands and watches. I don’t think he knows how to feel. I’m the same too, really; I keep telling myself not to give up hope but there comes a point when you’ve got to start accepting that you might not get the happy ending you want.’

‘Does anyone really get a happy ending?’ Derek asked rhetorically, a bitter taste in his mouth. ‘What about Stiles? Has he visited?’ Derek already knew the answer.

Chris sighed.

‘He needs more time.’

‘You think so too.’

Chris looked across at him.

‘I can only imagine how he must feel right now. He’s probably hurting more than any of us. I’d imagine he feels much the same way you did; blaming yourself.’

‘I made mistakes, Stiles had no control of his actions.’

‘We all know that. For Stiles, it’s different. He sees himself behind each and every one of those crimes and that’s what he can’t get over. He’ll need time and he’ll need his friends.’

‘That’s what Lydia keeps saying. She insists that Stiles should come here, to see her for himself.’

Chris sat back in his chair, eyes never leaving his daughter’s fragile form.

‘Sometimes self-preservation is more important. He probably feels the need to separate himself from the group, to find an outlet that he can keep to himself. Once he’s found that and can push through the guilt, he’ll be able to find his way back to his friends.’

‘What would you suggest?’

‘It could be anything really. Something that makes him feel good. Something that makes him feel like he’s worth the life he has. Right now, he must look at himself in fear. He doesn’t know the person he’s become.’

Derek folded his arms, the leather of his jacket his only shield against the harsh reality of the situation before him. He no longer knew what would hurt Stiles more; leaving him to find his own way through his grief or giving in to his desire, his outlet, and risking hurting him even more.

The conflict in Derek’s mind was reaching breaking point.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked it.  
> Makes sure to leave me kudos and a comment if you did please :)  
> (The more you comment, the sooner I'll update hehe)


	14. Penalties and Panic

Monday, 5th January

The blaring of Stiles’ alarm the next morning meant only one thing; the first day back to school. Stiles groaned as he rolled over in bed, holding his pillow over his head. He’d had a terrible night’s sleep, unable to keep his nightmares at bay. Allison had featured as normal, the Nogitsune too, but instead of taking place in his bedroom, the Oni at the end of his bed, Stiles found himself in Derek’s loft. Stiles had watched his own face on the trickster spirit, a snarling smile haunting him as he fought to help Allison away from the Oni. But he was unable to move, unable to save her. Stiles had woken in the cold sweat he had come to expect and spent the rest of the night trying to control his breathing. When he was forced to get out of bed, he was thankful for the few hours of peaceful sleep he’d obtained at Derek’s the day before. He knew it was the only reason he was able to drag himself off the mattress.

He knew he was going to miss the way Derek’s touch lulled him into a state of ease. He also knew he shouldn’t have given into his urges a second – make that third – time, especially after Derek had insisted they not repeat their actions. And he was sure the way Derek had treated him before he left the loft had been Derek’s way of saving face, of avoiding the difficulty of admitting that he too benefitted from the stress relief Stiles could bring him.

One positive thing about the start of the new semester was new distractions. Classes would become more intense as the school year ploughed closer to exams and he’d be able to focus on lacrosse which would be starting again with full force. And maybe he could find a new ‘Derek’ to distract himself with. There were plenty of pretty girls in his year, and the year below, who might give him a second look, maybe, if he actually made an effort to look good. There were guys too. Stiles had never really explored that possibility but he supposed now was as good a time as any. There was Danny, for example. He was attractive and smart and Stiles had spared him a few interested looks in the past. The only problem with Danny was his well-rounded and strongly evident dislike of Stiles. His lack of attraction to and interest in Stiles would probably get in the way of Stiles trying to sleep with him.

Stiles frowned abruptly.

He shouldn’t be seeking sex with random people to help ease the stress he was under. He was being selfish. It wasn’t a healthy way of dealing with his emotions and he’d probably only make matters worse with the guilt he’d feel for using people as an outlet for his overwhelming emotions.

He flopped back onto his bed. If only the sex hadn’t been so unbelievably amazing. Maybe then he wouldn’t crave it so much. And if only it hadn’t brought on the best sleep he’d had since Scott had been turned. He just wish Derek Hale didn’t have such a hold over his self-control.

Forcing himself to forget about the man, Stiles prepared for school and met his dad in the kitchen for breakfast. The Sheriff was, for once, not in a hurry to leave the house. He was sat at the table, a bowl of cornflakes going soggy in its milk, a mug of coffee in his hand.

‘Morning.’ Stiles said, dropping into the seat next to him.

‘Morning.’ his dad replied offhandedly, busy reading a document he had on the table.

‘What’s that?’

‘Your research.’

‘Oh.’ Stiles angled his head to the side and noticed the areas he’d highlighted. ‘What d’you think?’

The Sheriff nodded, his mouth full of cereal.

‘It’s interesting. I can see some patterns forming but it’s not solid enough yet to take it any further. That’s not to say I don’t think it’s useful, I just mean that we’ll need something more concrete to use this in the case.’

‘Ok, well I can keep looking into it for you.’

‘You need to be focusing on your school work. Sanchez is being paid to work on this.’ He jabbed a finger onto the paper.

‘Fine.’ Stiles refused to argue, knowing that he’d still work on the case even if his father forbade it. Stiles had never been one to follow instructions or rules. His father gave him an unscrupulous look, clearly knowing his son well.

‘Maybe you should run this past Derek.’ the Sheriff went on, putting the papers down and returning fully to his breakfast. Stiles poured milk into his bowl, drops splashing over the table.

‘Already tried.’

‘Oh?’

‘He didn’t take me seriously.’

‘Hmm…most people aren’t used to having to look far afield for clues. Maybe he thought you were going overboard with the research.’ Stiles shrugged in response. ‘Anyway, I had no idea you two were so chummy.’

‘Chummy?’ Stiles asked, spoon halting before his lips.

‘You took your research to him before me. I just thought maybe it meant you were friendlier than you used to be. You’ve never exactly gotten on.’

Stiles snorted. That was an understatement. Stiles had once wished Derek dead, his condescending tone and complete disregard for other people’s feelings sending Stiles spare. But they had indeed gotten “friendlier”. A little too “friendly” if Stiles were being honest. But he’d never tell his father that he’d slept with Derek Hale, using him as a source of stress relief. That was one topic a father and son should never discuss, especially over breakfast.

‘I thought he might like to know what I’d found and I just decided to get it out of the way, you know, rip the band aid off, quick.’

The Sheriff laughed.

‘You dislike him that much?’

‘He’s ok…he’s just…’

‘Just Derek?’ his dad suggested. Stiles nodded. ‘Yeah, he can be a difficult pill to swallow. He’s had a rough time the last few years, more than that now I suppose, and he’s hardened himself to other people. He’s lost a lot so I can’t help but feel for him.’

‘He’s a good guy.’ Stiles said softly.

‘Seems to be. It would be nice if he met someone. He’s all alone with his sister out of Beacon Hills.’

Stiles shovelled more food into his mouth, the topic getting a little too close to actuality, albeit more romantic than reality. He finished his breakfast quickly and grabbed his bag, heading out the door with a brief farewell. He arrived at school a little early as a result but he used the time to tidy his locker which he’d left a mess over the Christmas holiday. By the time he finished throwing away stray bits of paper and food wrappers, other students began to file in. He saw Scott approaching and waved.

‘Hey, you ok?’ Scott asked casually, opening his own locker.

‘Yeah, not bad. Looking forward to another round of torture?’

Scott laughed.

‘It’s not that bad.’

‘Well that’s easy for you to say; not all of the teachers hate you yet.’

‘They don’t hate you…’ Scott said distractedly, eyes glazing over at something past Stiles’ shoulder. He turned to see Kira walking through the doors. She spotted them and scurried over. ‘Hey.’

‘Hi.’ She slipped up to Scott’s side, closer than what might be considered normal. They were getting closer day by day, even though Scott was trying to hold back because of Allison’s state in the hospital.

They chatted idly until the bell rang and made their way to registration. Stiles took a seat behind Scott, watching his exchange with Kira who sat beside him, her smile glowing as she gazed upon Scott. Stiles took out his phone and checked for any messages. He knew he shouldn’t expect, nor want, any messages from Derek but it was hard to convince oneself of a blatant lie. He was so distracted that he didn’t notice someone taking a seat on his left until a familiar voice brought his head up from his phone.

‘Thank god we don’t have to put up with those tacky Christmas sweaters anymore.’ Lydia said dramatically, flicking residue eraser off her desk. ‘You’d think someone would try to make the holiday more fashionable.’

Stiles smiled and Lydia responded, likewise. Stiles knew things were still strained between them but they were back on speaking terms. Lydia, he was sure, was still upset but she seemed to appreciate Stiles’ hesitations over visiting Allison. She even walked with him to their first class, chatting as if nothing untoward had happened between them. Stiles felt his chest ease with each breath, his shoulders standing a little taller; things seemed to be falling back into place, even only in part. Even Isaac seemed a little more in control of his emotions, the dark circles under his eyes, from lack of sleep, easing up. They’d all sat together at lunch and Allison didn’t come up in conversation. Stiles felt a little guilty still, wondering if she was being avoided for his sake. But he received no ill looks or noticed any awkward gestures and felt himself relax into the normal structure of the school day. Come the end of his final class, Stiles was in a pretty good mood. He even laughed along with the boys in the changing room when Coach screamed at Greenberg for giving him a New Year’s greeting card. They were changing for their first lacrosse practice of the semester and Stiles couldn’t wait to get out on the field. An exhilarating game of lacrosse would be the perfect way to end his day.

Once the team were on the field, Coach Finstock welcomed them all back with much disinterest and ushered them into warm up exercises and drills. Stiles was eager to get to the game but stretched out his long limbs as best he could. His balance had always been non-existent and so he found several leg warm ups challenging when continuously falling on his arse. But he didn’t mind. He laughed along with Scott and it felt as though they were falling back into the patterns of a time before werewolves and monsters. It felt good to be a normal teenager and worry about normal things like whether or not the rest of the team saw him crash into Greenberg as he tried to stretch his quads.

When they eventually began a mini-game, five a-side, Stiles was pumped and ready. He and Scott were on opposing teams so Stiles knew he’d have to concentrate if he wanted to score. Scott was faster, stronger and had better focus, all due to his werewolf senses. He tried to hold his superhuman powers back, to avoid drawing too much attention to himself and to give the other players a chance. But Stiles wanted to push himself. He wanted Scott to challenge him, make him work for a shot on goal. Stiles found himself approaching the ball on several occasions but each time he tried to pick it up, Scott appeared from seemingly nowhere and body checked him. When he finally did manage to get the ball, Isaac stick checked him. Stiles shouted in frustration and gripped his stick tighter in his grasp as he hurried after the ball. He skirted around Danny, who was on his team, and swooped in front of Isaac as he ran with the ball in his net. He knew the move he made was a foul but he went for it anyway, knocking into Isaac, sending the ball flying into the air. He jumped up to grab it in his net but heard the whistle blow. He look around to see Coach waving him over.

‘Foul! One minute penalty.’

Stiles was moved to the penalty area to wait until he was allowed back in the game. He grumbled but conceded, waiting impatiently for his minute of isolation to pass. When Coach put him back into game play, Stiles ran in hot pursuit of the ball and soon had possession. He could see someone coming up on his right but he surged forward and took a shot on goal at the crease. He inwardly cheered as the ball flew past the goalie and hit the net. The rest of the team on the benches cheered and Stiles felt the buzz he’d felt before term ended, building within him. He used it to carry him through the rest of the game. He ran for the ball and kept himself open as much as possible when other players had possession. There was a little more body contact than strictly legal but Coach seemed to be letting it slide. That was until Stiles tried to knock the ball from Scott’s net, hitting him on the shoulder instead of the glove or stick. He was sent off for three minutes and Coach screamed at him to get his act together. Stiles nodded and bounced in place until he was let back onto the field.

Not long after he was allowed back in, Coach blew the whistle to signify the end of the game. The players walked off and a new mini game started with ten different players. Stiles was frustrated not to keep playing but used the break to get some water. Scott joined him, both of them breathing heavily as they gulped water from their bottles.

‘You’re really giving it out there.’ Scott rasped as he drew the bottle away from his lips.

‘Yeah…feels good.’ Stiles panted, taking another long drink.

‘A few too many fouls though.’ Scott said with raised brow and a grin. Stiles grinned back.

‘Gotta play rough, Scottie.’

Scott laughed and clapped Stiles on the back.

‘It’s nice to see you back to your normal self, if maybe a little more aggressive.’ Scott indicated to the field, referring to the way he’d shoved Isaac out the way and clouted Scott on the shoulder with his stick. ‘If I didn’t have healing powers, that would’ve hurt.’

‘You big girl.’

They laughed loudly as they walked back to the field and watched the other group play.

When practice was over and they were washed and changed, Stiles and Scott walked to the car park together. Scott held his bike helmet under his arm, Stiles swirling his keys around his finger.

‘No, I’m sorry, you’re wrong.’ Stiles said sternly. ‘Batman Returns was way better than Batman Forever. They should have stopped while they were ahead if you ask me.’

‘But you’ve got to give it a chance.’

‘I did! And it was shit!’ Stiles cried in exasperation.

‘You only watched the first hour.’ Scott tried in defence but Stiles dropped his shoulders dramatically and rolled his eyes to the back of his head, groaning.

‘Yeah, and I died of brain damage from how shit it was.’

Scott shook his head, laughing.

‘You’re impossible.’

‘No, I’m intelligent. I know shit when I smell it.’

‘Well you should smell it now because you’re talking utter crap.’

‘Now, now, Scottie. Don’t try to fight battles you have no chance of winning.’

Scott swung his helmet out, hitting Stiles in the chest. Stiles made a winded noise, arms coming around himself automatically, but in good spirt. They stopped at Scott’s motorbike, parked near the school’s entrance.

‘What you doing tonight?’ Scott asked, zipping up his jacket in preparation for the ride home.

‘Already got an assignment to plan.’ Stiles sighed. ‘It’s child abuse, I tell you.’

‘Maybe the teachers really do hate you.’ It was Stiles’ turn to hit Scott, punching him lightly on the arm. ‘Watch it, I’m still sore from earlier.’ he joked, rubbing his arm with a wounded expression.

‘Well why don’t you come over and I’ll kiss it better over some FiFa?’ The easy mood dipped as Scott’s smile faded. Stiles knew what he would say before he even opened his mouth and spared him the difficulty. ‘It’s fine. I understand.’

‘Come with me.’ Scott said quickly, as if hoping his urgency would make Stiles feel more inclined to join him on a trip to the hospital to see Allison. Stiles didn’t know if it was patching things up with Lydia, the lacrosse practice or the banter he’d had with Scott which reminded him of the fun they used to have when they lived simple lives of normal teenage boys, but he found himself nodding. Scott looked at him in surprise but smiled brightly. Stiles walked to his car, promising to meet Scott at the hospital, noting that Scott watched him walk to his car and waited for Stiles to leave before he set off. He didn’t trust Stiles not to run away.

The journey to the hospital was relatively short but long enough for Stiles to considering turning off and heading home several times. But seeing Scott’s reassuring figure in his review mirror helped calm his nerves. He let himself go into auto pilot to the hospital car park to avoid his fears getting the better of him. He pulled into a space and watched Scott ride over to the motorbike parking. He waited for Scott to come over, finding his legs too numb to move. Scott stood against the window and tapped the glass. Stiles forced an uneasy smile. His earlier courage was depleting with great rapidity. He unlocked the door and allowed Scott to open it. He beckoned Stiles out with a patient smile, his presence calming Stiles’ hammering heart. He climbed out of the jeep and followed Scott towards the hospital doors, the ones he had spent so many hours watching with sleep deprived eyes. Scott walked on ahead, looking back to make sure Stiles was still behind him. Stiles pulled at his sleeves, dragging the fabric over his hands and hunching his shoulders. He felt his stomach begin to flip and the bright lights from the other side of the glass doors was almost blinding against the darkness of the early winter’s evening. He looked up when a drop of rain fell upon his cheek. The sky was full of heavy clouds.

‘You ok?’ Scott’s voice asked from beside him as they stood facing the doors. Stiles could see a throng of people inside, nurses behind the desk, some hurrying up and down the adjoining corridors. People were sat on chairs against the wall, some waiting with worried expressions, others asleep. Stiles looked up at the towering building, row upon row of floors, windows lit with life inside. Life that, in many cases, came only from the lights on the ceiling and walls.

Stiles felt a chill creep over his skin and it had nothing to do with the cool air around them. He thought of Allison, barely alive, only a few floors above. In a matter of minutes he could be by her side, watching the life drain from her cheeks, the eyes hidden by permanently closed lids. His body heaved and he thought he might be sick. Scott appeared in his vision, his mouth moving in indistinguishable words. Stiles backed away, holding himself around the middle. He stumbled and fell against someone behind him. He could see faces around him, all a blur. The world around him was a swirl of dark colours and the sound of his own heartbeat and a piercing whistle, like a kettle boiling on the stove.

His heart thudded, his eyes scrunched up, hands on his ears, willing away the deafening sound. He felt hands on him, holding him up and he pushed them away. He turned and ran back towards his car, more rain drops falling unnoticed on his skin. He could just about see the blue haze of his car and fell against it. He scrambled for his keys in his pocket and gasped for breath, leaning his back against the door. Scott was once again in his sight, his face so close but still unfocused. He could hear his name being shouted but it was muffled under the banging drum in his ears and the whistle which was beginning to sound more like a scream. Stiles pushed Scott away and clambered back into his car once the door was unlocked. He collapsed against the steering wheel, panting and desperate for breath. Scott was banging at the window, the doors locking him out. Stiles’ hands shook as he tried to put the key in the ignition but he managed to turn the engine and it rumbled into life. He drew in a painful breath, some of the mist clearing from his eyes. He knew he shouldn’t be behind the wheel while he was in the middle of a panic attack but his mind was far from clear.

Pulling away from the car park, Stiles roared out onto the road and put down the pedal. He began to hyperventilate, his breaths short and painful. He gripped the wheel, limbs going stiff. His foot was stuck on the pedal, his muscles spasming. The screaming in his ears was reaching an unbearable level, rising like water in a barrel. Soon the water would reach the top and overflow. Stiles could feel the scream creeping up and soon it was on his lips. He screamed, sobbing. His chest was on fire, throat burning. He could see the flash of lights approaching and his mind kick-started back into focus. He turned the wheel to the left, throwing the car off the road where it rocketed over uneven ground. He felt the life return to his legs and he slammed on the breaks. He held the steering wheel tightly, fighting the tires as they bounced against the rocks and dirt beneath. The brakes screeched in protest but they eventually brought the car to a stop, aided by a row of bushes along the side of the road. The branches scraped against the glass, leaves scattering over the windshield. When the car stopped, Stiles lurched forward, hitting his head against the metal of the door frame. He gasped for breath, his body going numb as he frantically looked around himself. His hands were held fast on the wheel still, knuckles white.

Stiles let out a sob, fear and panic rolling through him. He shook all over as he tried to open his door but found it wouldn’t budge as he was up against thick foliage. He climbed over to the other side and pulled at the door handle and slipped out of the car. He fell to the grass below, his legs shaking too much to hold his weight. He crawled away from the car, hands and knees becoming filthy in the mud dredged up by the rain and his tire tracks. He look up the road to where he’d swerved across to the wrong side and come off on the grassy banks. The rain was falling harder and his clothes were soon drenched.

Once he was a safe distance from the car, his mind beginning to clear enough to tell him to get away from the vehicle in case something had happened to the engine when he crashed, Stiles put a hand to his throbbing head. Looking down at his hand he saw blood mixed with the mud. He knew he needed help. He reached for his phone which thankfully hadn’t fallen from his pocket and found the contact he was looking for. He held the phone to his ear and waited for the ringing to stop.

‘Derek…I need you.’


	15. Advice

Monday, 5th January

Derek found Stiles cold, wet and covered in dirt and blood, sat by the side of the road. His jeep was lodge in a hedge, tire tracks skidding along the grass. He pulled his own car up behind the jeep and climbed out, umbrella over himself. He hurried to Stiles’ side, draping a coat over him and pulling him up with one arm. He wrapped his arm around the boy’s shoulders and guided him to the car, helping him into the passenger seat. He got back in himself and started the engine, driving towards the hospital. Stiles was shaking but otherwise still. He made no sound until he realised where Derek was taking him and reached out a hand to grip at Derek’s arm.

‘No, not there.’

‘You’re injured.’ Stiles put a hand to his wounded head, his expression bewildered at the blood on his fingers. Derek could tell he was in shock. ‘You need to get that looked at.’

‘No! Not there…please.’

The fingers were once again wrapped around his wrist, cold and needy. Derek glanced between Stiles and the road, the traffic lights green and approaching. He caught Stiles’ wide, pleading eyes and huffed a breath, indicating left and turning away from the hospital and towards Stiles’ house. Stiles was silent for the rest of the journey, clearly unfazed as to where they went as long as it wasn’t to the hospital. Derek knew the Sheriff was unlikely to be back from work yet but Stiles needed to be at home where he was safe.

When they reached the house, Derek helped Stiles from the car and walked him to the door. His hands were still shaking as he tried to open the front door. Derek took the keys from him and they were soon inside the warmth of the house. Stiles stood in the hallway, dripping wet with a vacant expression. His eyes were glazed over, his conscience receded back into the depths of his mind. Derek took off the coat he’d put over Stiles and took him by the arm to the stairs where he guided him to the bathroom. He told Stiles to undress while he looked for some towels. The boy slowly began to peel his soaking clothes from his body, his shoulders hunched and shivering. Derek found two towels in the airing cupboard outside the bathroom and placed them on the top of the clothes hamper by the bath. He assisted Stiles in pulling his long sleeved top over his head and leant over to turn on the taps, filling the bath.

‘Sit there.’ Derek commanded, pointing to the closed lid of the toilet. Stiles did as told, slowly moving across the room. Derek bent to one knee and began pulling off Stiles’ shoes and socks. He glanced up at Stiles’ face to find him watching Derek with a fixed gaze. When the shoes were off his feet, Derek pulled at the jeans, making Stiles stand up again. The jeans came down with a thud, Stiles’ phone, in his pocket, hitting the floor. Derek removed the phone to place it on the edge of the sink but noticed the screen lit with several messages from Scott.

**Scott:** _Are you ok?_

**Scott:** _Call me._

**Scott:** _Let me know you’re ok_

**Scott:** _Stiles, call me. You shouldn’t be driving right now!_

It went on and on. There were also several missed calls and voicemails. Derek took out his own phone and sent a quick message to the worried teen.

**Derek:** _I’m with Stiles. He’s fine. I’ve taken him home._

Derek made Stiles remove his underwear and by the time he’d put the clothes in a neat pile and read Scott’s reply - _Thanks. He was in a bad state._ – the bath was full. He tested the temperature and told Stiles to get in. He did so and sat in the water pitifully. Derek grabbed a wash cloth from the side of the sink and threw it at Stiles. It landed in the water with a splash. Derek sat down on the toilet lid and held his hands between his knees, leaning forward.

‘Right then; you gonna tell me what the hell you were doing?’ Stiles looked down into the water and said nothing. Derek waited patiently for an answer but it was clear he wasn’t going to get one. ‘Are you drunk?’ Stiles shook his head slowly. ‘Then what?’ More silence. Derek sighed and inched forward, reaching for the cloth and squeezing out the excess water. He brushed it against the blood on Stiles’ forehead and the teen jolted away. Derek was persistent though and soon had Stiles sitting still, allowing him to clean the wound. ‘Was it a panic attack?’ Stiles made no move to deny it. ‘Because of Allison?’ His shoulders stiffened.

Derek ended the interrogation for the time being and finished cleaning the cut on Stiles’ head. It didn’t look too bad; Derek had definitely seen worse. It was more of a graze than anything and would bruise nicely the next day. But it would heal quickly. Derek added more hot water to the bath until Stiles stopped shivering. When his body temperature had returned to normal, Derek held out a towel and wrapped it around Stiles’ naked form as he stood from the bath. He led Stiles to his bedroom and looked for his pyjamas. He found them under Stiles’ pillow and tossed them on the bed.

‘Get into those and get in bed.’

Derek sat at Stiles’ desk as the boy dressed. He kept his gaze away despite having seen Stiles in his completion in the bath only moments before. Not to mention during the throws of passion. He sent Scott another message and considered calling the Sheriff. He would no doubt have received calls about a car coming off the road from concerned members of the public and once he saw the car was his son’s, he’d be worried for Stiles’ wellbeing. He was about to call the number for the Sheriff’s station when Stiles spoke up from behind him.

‘Thank you for coming to get me.’

Derek turned to see Stiles fully clothed and stood at the end of the bed. Derek put his phone away and walked to the bed, pulling back the covers.

‘Sit under the duvet. Don’t lie down. You might have a concussion so you shouldn’t fall asleep.’ He knew he needed to been seen by a doctor but Stiles would put up a fight. He needed to get Stiles warm and comfortable before he could calm him down enough to get him seen by someone.

Stiles climbed into bed and let Derek pull the duvet up around him. He held onto Derek’s arm as he tucked the blanket around his legs.

‘Thank you.’ he repeated. Derek held his gazed, their faces close as Derek leant over Stiles’ bed. Stiles moved forward to join their lips but Derek stood straight, preventing any kiss.

‘What happened, Stiles?’ Derek asked, more firmly this time. Stiles shied away, perhaps embarrassed by Derek’s rejection of a kiss. He pulled the duvet further up his body. He toyed with his lips between his teeth, words on the tip of his tongue but afraid to spill forth. ‘Just tell me.’ Derek said more softly this time.

‘I thought I could take it.’ His voice was almost inaudible. He sniffed. His skin still looked a little pale from sitting in the rain. ‘I tried but I…I couldn’t.’

‘You went to see Allison?’ Derek asked, although it was more of a statement as he knew nothing else could put Stiles in such a state. Stiles scowled down at his hands.

‘I couldn’t even make it past the front door.’

Derek perched on the edge of the bed, angled towards Stiles.

‘It’s further than you’ve ever been before.’ he offered in comfort. Stiles shook his head.

‘It’s not enough.’ Stiles fiddled with a threat poking out from the duvet. ‘Things were suddenly going back to normal. I felt like I could finally breathe properly again.’

‘So you went to the hospital because...?’

‘I thought I could take it. I thought that maybe I was ready.’

‘So, when you realised you weren’t ready, you panicked and drove away and crashed your car?’ Stiles nodded, avoiding Derek’s gaze. ‘You know you were an idiot for getting behind the wheel in that state, don’t you?’

‘Of course I do.’ Stiles snapped.

‘You could have killed someone-’

‘I know!’ Stiles finally looked up, eyes wet with threatening tears. He held Derek’s gaze before letting his head drop again. ‘I know.’

Derek sighed and ran a hand through his hair. Stiles was internalising his feelings and letting them come out in life threatening panic attacks. Derek thought back to his conversation with Chris. Stiles needed to find some way of channelling his emotions into something productive that made him feel needed, that made him see himself as worth something.

‘You should keep working on your research.’

‘What?’

‘Keep working on it and use it as a way to focus yourself. We’ve tried to channel you feelings physically but that doesn’t work for everyone. Your mind works in a different way from mine. You need to work with what you do best and that’s your brain, not your muscles.’

Stiles’ cheeks went a little pink.

‘I thought…that we’d found it.’

‘Stiles, you can’t use sex as the solution to your problems. It’s not healthy.’ Stiles’ eyes darted across Derek’s face, as if searching for some hidden message, an indication that he wasn’t being serious, perhaps. ‘Look, I’m sorry for what I said last time. I was trying to help you by scaring you away. But I meant what I said about this - ’ he pointed between them as he had the other day. ‘ – it can’t go on.’ Stiles sunk lower in his bed sheets. ‘I tried to show you the ways I deal with stress but you’ve got to do _you_ , not me.’ Derek realised the double meaning of his words and rolled his eyes at the quirk in Stiles lips. He sighed. ‘You’ve got to do what works for you, not someone else.’

‘You know me well, then?’ Stiles asked softly, some of his characteristic cheek lacing the words.

Derek scoffed and stood from the bed.

‘Hardly.’ Stiles was an enigma that Derek would never get his head around. ‘But I do know that you’re not like me. You’re not…’ Derek paused, in search of the right word.

‘Strong? Fast? Powerful? A werewolf?’ Stiles offered bitterly.

‘I was going to say “athletic”. If you wanna sulk, go right ahead. Just let me leave first.’ Derek moved towards the door. ‘I don’t plan on being a part of your pity party.’

‘No one asked you here.’ Stiles grumbled, either forgetting or ignoring the fact that he’d called Derek on the phone, begging him for help only an hour earlier. ‘Why don’t you go outside and chase your tail or something.’ He spat, crossing his arms and looking to the side. Derek hid a smirk. Some of the old Stiles was creeping through. He was still in there, somewhere. Derek stood at the door, fingers around the handle. He turned back to the disgruntled boy in the bed.

‘Stiles, I’m not gonna lie; you’re a brat and you piss me off. But for some godforsaken reason, I feel sorry for you and want to help. So I’ll say it once more; do what you do best. Focus on what you’re good at and it’ll help. Trust me.’

With that, he opened the door and stepped through. Before he shut it, he told Stiles to call his dad to tell him what had happened and to not fall asleep. Although, Derek doubted Stiles had a concussion considering how sarcastic he was being. Derek walked to his car and sat behind the wheel. As he started the engine, he could hear, with his wolf senses, Stiles talking to his father. At least he’d listened to something Derek had said. He counted that as a win.

xxx

Tuesday, 6th January

Stiles should have known his dad would force him to go to hospital. He’d been dragged into his father’s car and hurried to the emergency room. He’d been seen to quickly although he supposed it was due to his injury being on his head and that fact that he was under eighteen. A nurse had looked at him but deemed him well. She prescribed him some strong painkillers to help him sleep through the pain but otherwise, he was ok to return home. He’d felt itchy and nervous during the entire time inside the hospital. He could not shake the feeling of being watched, knowing that Allison was somewhere in the building, dying, and he was being handled with such care over a tiny bump on the head.

When they got home, his dad had sent him straight to bed, tucking him in and fussing about his room. He promised to have his car sent to a garage the next day. After the shock of what had happened and the realisation of what he had done, Stiles feared the worst for his mother’s beloved jeep. It had been the most important memory he had of her and would keep it with him for as long as he could. The thought of the car being written off made Stiles’ stomach churn. But the Sheriff eased his fears; the damage had been minimal, apparently. The hedge had taken the brunt of the impact and the car would be fine.

While his dad seemed concerned and trying to comfort him, Stiles knew he was in for a rollicking the next morning. Once his father’s parental concerns mellowed with a night’s sleep, he’d be ready, guns blazing, to put Stiles in his place and tell him how much of an idiot he was and how dangerous it was to drive while having a panic attack. Stiles knew how stupid he had been; Derek had made it clear. He didn’t need telling twice. And when he came down the stairs the following morning, he told his father so. He hurried from the house, skipping his breakfast and making it to the bus stop twenty minutes early. He wanted to avoid the questions and the concerned looks. He didn’t want his father tiptoeing around him as if he were going to break but also knew he couldn’t take being shouted at for something he was already regretting. He knew people would notice the cut on his head and would wonder why he was suddenly taking the bus but he hadn’t the energy to care about the strange looks as he watch the grey world go by through the dirty bus windows or later while he struggled to pay attention during class. Scott had met him at his locker and drowned him with a barrage of questions. He answered but a few, assuring Scott that he needn’t worry. They walked to class together and the questions continued with full force.

‘I was really worried about you. Is your jeep gonna be ok?’

‘I hope so.’ Stiles said glumly.

‘Did the doctor say anything about your head? Did they give you anything for it?’ Stiles took out the bottle of painkillers and rattled them. ‘Does it hurt a lot?’ Scott reached out a caring hand but Stiles pulled away.

‘It’s fine, don’t worry. I’m nicely drugged up.’ Stiles shook the bottle again and put it back in his pocket.

‘So why’d you call Derek for help?’ Scott asked innocently. Stiles heartbeat fluttered to life and a shiver ran through his spine. He shrugged noncommittedly to cover up any physical indication of his excitement at the mention of Derek’s name.

‘He was just the first person I thought of who could pick me up. I didn’t really want any of you guys to know about it.’

Scott nodded, seemingly satisfied with the explanation.

‘What about your dad? What did he say?’

‘Not much.’

‘Was he angry?’  Scott urged as they reached the class room. He stopped at the door and Stiles stood aside as other students slipped past them.

‘I guess he must be.’ Stiles shrugged again. Scott scowled in confusion.

‘Didn’t he ask you about what happened? He’s seen your car hasn’t he?’

‘Yeah. We just haven’t spoken about it that much.’ Stiles made to walk into the room but Scott stopped him with a hand on his arm.

‘Are you ok?’ Scott had asked this several times in the last few weeks but he’d never looked as serious as he did in that moment. Stiles felt a wave of exhaustion wash over him. He wasn’t sure how much more he could take.

‘I really don’t know anymore, Scott.’ He gave his friend a sad smile, just a quiver of the corner of his mouth, and moved into the class room, taking a seat.

Scott avoided any other such questions for the rest of the day and kept himself scarce for the most part. He was glad of the time alone, purely for the ease of not having to keep up the pretence of being “ok”. He met up with the group at lunch but little was discussed and Stiles ate in silence. Lydia’s gaze fell to his injured forehead, and obviously so, several times but she made no comment. Stiles could only assume Scott had filled everyone in on his little episode. He would have flushed in embarrassment only a few months earlier if Lydia had graced him with a look. But now he wished she would look away. Her eyes burnt into his skin with molten guilt. They were all trying to be supportive but Stiles couldn’t help wondering when they were all going to turn on him for good.

There was no lacrosse practice that night. Stiles would have to return to an empty house. While he wanted to avoid an awkward conversation with his father, he didn’t much fancy sitting alone at home either. He eventually decided to work in the library where at least he would be surrounded by other students doing their homework instead of alone in a house big enough for an entire family. He found a desk at the back of the room, hidden between two tall bookshelves. The corner was dark due to the heavy clouds and the setting sun through the window. He turned on the small desk lamp which gave a warm glow, minutely raising his spirits. He worked on two essays he had due the following week, feeling some sense of relief that he was still able to keep his school work in check.

As he finished one assignment, Stiles yawned and stood to carry some books back to their shelves. He was getting a little bored, his mind seeking better stimulus. He thought of Derek’s advice. He was conflicted over the matter. On the one hand, he may be working on something completely pointless and feel worse than when he’d started, but on the other, he could be on to something important that could save not only his friends but his own sanity. Returning to his desk, he opened the folder he’d created for the case. His mouse hovered over the research documents he’d collected and, with thoughts of Scott, his other supernatural friends and of course, Derek, Stiles double clicked the mouse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Coming up;  
> Derek tries to resist his ever growing desire for Stiles while Stiles tries to distract himself with productive research but a new temptation occurs from an unlikely source.


	16. Bad Influence

Friday, 9th January

_He panted with wet breath, hands gripping tighter to the sheets as his hips rolled and pushed deeper. He grunted and moaned, the sounds dripping from his plump lips, bruised and sore from Stiles’ teeth. The entire length of his body was lined up with the boy’s, his hands above their heads, holding onto the bed linen in the hopes of maintaining control. Stiles’ legs were wrapped around his waist, his own hands holding onto Derek’s arms._

_‘More, Derek, more…’ Stiles’ voice was a whisper, his body drained of all energy apart from the pulsing cock that lay between them, leaking and desperate for touch. The boy pushed up into Derek, seeking friction. Derek complied and, with each thrust, rubbed his hard stomach muscles over Stiles’ member. Stiles moaned and let his head loll on the pillow._

_‘So tight…’ Derek hissed. He knew he was close. The warmth was building in his abdomen and he wanted to keep going, to live in a permanent state of Stiles-induced bliss but he knew it would only take a few more strokes before he was spilling inside of the boy. He bit down on Stiles’ pale shoulder as he came, his mind going blank under the weight of the pleasure spilling over his mind. However, he was alerted by the taste of copper on his lips and opened his eyes._

Derek lay in his bed, his sheets tangled over his legs, sticky and wet against his skin. The room was dark, save from the moonlight beaming in through the window. He breathed in slowly, calming his rapid heart. The dream had been vivid and so realistic that he found himself scanning the room for a sign of Stiles, not quite believing his imagination could create such a delicious fantasy. He hadn’t had a wet dream in many years and cursed himself for getting so worked up over a teenage boy. He was a grown man and had better control over his bodily functions than he was demonstrating. He sat up and pressed fingers to his lips where he found drying blood. He’d bitten his lip at the height of his dream, imagining himself biting Stiles’ enticing flesh. The thought sent a shudder through him. He could hurt Stiles in terrible ways if he allowed himself to lose control like that in reality. He was thankful he’d already put a stop to that possibility.

Derek rose from his bed and pulled off the soiled sheets. He carried them to the laundry basket and tossed them in on his way to the bathroom. He cleaned up the considerable mess he’d made of himself and looked at his reflection in the mirror. He felt like a teenager, unable to keep his mind out of the gutter or his dick in his pants. He’d had several dreams featuring Stiles since their last escapade and berated himself each time. But there was only so much he could do about the wandering thoughts of his sleeping mind. Stiles seemed to be a constant resident of his unconscious thoughts. Derek scoffed at himself. Stiles was a resident of almost every thought Derek had. He’d wormed his way through Derek’s hard exterior and had him standing in his bathroom almost every night, looking at his reflection in disgust.

‘Get a grip, Hale.’ Derek splashed his face with cold water, scrubbing off the blood. He’d sponged off the cum from his stomach, removing his white stained briefs and pulled on a new pair from the draw, along with a new set of sheets. He’d had to do rather a lot more laundry than usual to keep up with his bodily demands and was becoming used to the new nightly routine. ‘Bloody Stiles.’

He climbed back into bed, his skin still warm from the hot blush that had crept all over him. He was glad he lived alone and didn’t have to face the embarrassment of being overheard spilling his load each night, especially when the cause of his lude dreams was a minor. He lay, staring at the ceiling for a long while, Stiles still on his mind. He knew he’d made the right decision. He could not allow himself to indulge in something that could be so emotionally damaging for both of them, not to mention the trouble Derek could get in for sleeping with someone under eighteen. There was no doubt he would miss the way Stiles’ body moved in such perfect synchronisation with his own, or the sounds that poured from the boy’s mouth like cream. Derek could not deny the pleasure Stiles had given him but he would give it up for both their sakes. Stiles was young and in need of guidance. Derek was not about to become his babysitter but he could steer him in the right direction and that direction was not into Derek’s bedroom. Derek knew he just needed to wait it out; soon enough his Stiles-induced dreams would fade and he could forget they had ever taken that step over the line which should never have been crossed.

xxx

Friday, 9th January

Stiles barely noticed the ominous black cloud billowing above the field as he ran up and down for the ball. He only registered the turn in the weather when he heard a distant rumble of thunder and the heavens opened. The team played through the rain for a while but eventually they were driven inside when the grass became too wet to play on. Stiles skidded in the mud a few times, his legs caked in it. He stripped off in the changing room and showered along with the other boys. Scott stood next to him and they chatted amicably, no mention of Stiles’ crash earlier in the week. His car had come back from the garage with almost no damage, just some paint scratches which needed tending to. Stiles had been relieved and promised himself he wouldn’t risk the life of his mother’s jeep ever again.

The lacrosse practice had been good for Stiles’ pent up frustration. He’d spent most of his free time, over the past few days, in the library, working on assignments but mostly on old case files he’d taken from his father’s office. He had decided that if he was going to fill his time with something productive then he might as well go the whole way. He’d looked over several unsolved cases to determine if there might be a supernatural element previously missed by his father who had, until recently, been completely unaware of the world outside the reality he lived in. Most of his focus had been on the case at hand. He was looking for stronger links between the different cases he’d shown to Derek and Deputy Sanchez. He needed to figure out what each of the people shot or killed had in common. If their injuries or deaths were all caused by the same person then they must all have something the killer needed or had done something that gave someone enough reason to want them dead. The fact that an entire family had been killed in one instant made things more complicated. Were all the family members guilty of something? Even the children? Or were their deaths just collateral?

The only way to find out more would be to find the man who survived in New Mexico. If he had some information about who shot him, something he wouldn’t have wanted to tell the police at the time, then maybe Stiles could begin to find a connection. He’d dug around the internet for the man, Álvaro Urzua, and eventually found his address. He’d moved out of New Mexico and was living in Arizona which was only one state away. If Deputy Sanchez could get someone to talk to him, they might be able to get the ball rolling.

Once Stiles was washed and dressed, he said farewell to Scott and hurried to his newly returned jeep. He would drive to the station and tell the deputy of his idea in the hopes he wouldn’t be laughed out of the building. He knew it was a little extreme. They had no real leads, no suspects and it would seem as though Stiles were suggesting they send out an officer to interview someone completely unrelated to the case. But Sanchez hand seemed genuinely interested in Stiles’ opinion beforehand, so he could only hope.

He parked next to his dad’s car and walked into the station. He waved at the officer behind the desk and made his way through to his dad’s office. The Sheriff seemed to be away from his desk and Stiles was quickly pointed in the direction of his father who was amongst the junior officers. He was reading through some papers, pointing to something and handing the file back to the officer when he noticed his son walking towards him.

‘Stiles, you ok, son?’ The Sheriff reached out and ruffled Stiles’ hair which had Stiles ducking away.

‘I’m fine. I wanted to see Deputy Sanchez.’

‘Ah, right. He’ll be here in just a moment.’ He walked towards his office, Stiles ambling after him. ‘You had a good day at school?’ Stiles shrugged. ‘You feel ok?’ Stiles held his temper, frustrated at the tentative way in which his father was speaking to him, as though he would break at any moment.

‘I’m fine. I feel fine. Everything is fine.’

His dad looked at him with disbelieving eyes.

‘I know that isn’t true. I know you’ve got a lot going on in there.’ He tapped Stiles on the side of the head. ‘I wish you would talk to me about it. We still haven’t spoken about the other day-’

‘Dad, please don’t.’ Stiles cut him off, turning back towards the general workspace of the station.

‘I just worry about you. You just seem so lost.’

Stiles paused and hesitated before looking over his shoulder at his father.

‘I’m working on it.’

He made his way back to Sanchez’s desk, finding him sitting in his chair. He smiled when he saw Stiles approaching.

‘Hello, Stiles. Have you got something new for me?’ Stiles nodded and took a single piece of paper out of his bag. He handed it to the deputy. Sanchez read it quickly. ‘Arizona?’

‘It’s the address of the guy from New Mexico who got shot with a silver bullet and survived. Maybe someone could look into finding him. You could ask him about what happened, see if he has anything to say that wasn’t picked up by the police officers dealing with the case at the time.’

Sanchez looked a little sceptical and Stiles was waiting for the standard response; ‘Why don’t you just leave this to the professionals?’. But Sanchez hummed and held his clean shaven chin.

‘That might be a good place to start. I’ll look into it. Good thinking.’ he said with a wink. Stiles flushed a little, beginning to enjoy the attention. He was so used to being ignored that it was nice to have someone interested in what he had to say. He couldn’t be sure if Sanchez was flirting with him – he highly doubted it – but he seemed to like Stiles and Stiles couldn’t deny Sanchez was an attractive man. Stiles continued to divulge other thoughts he had about the case but their conversation soon moved onto more personal matters. The deputy asked about Stiles’ plans once he left school, his friends, lacrosse and so on. Stiles found it easy to talk to him. He knew nothing of Stiles’ past and therefore had no reason to judge him. He could at least try to make a good impression on Sanchez whereas his friends had seen him at his worst and there was no coming back from that.

Stiles asked his own questions. He asked about how Sanchez became a deputy, why he’d chosen Beacon Hills along with some more personal details. He’d been born in West Virginia and moved to Michigan for college before moving across the country, coming to California for work. He’d worked in the busy cities but found he needed a break from that life and moved to Beacon Hills to enjoy life in the slow lane. He was only in his mid-twenties which surprised Stiles. He seemed so accomplished for someone so young. Stiles hoped he too could be so settled by the time he was that age. He somehow doubted it. Stiles’ life seemed to have become a perpetual rollercoaster and the carriage was coming lose from the tacks. But for the time being, he was enjoying talking to an adult who didn’t treat him like a child. His father cared for him deeply but could never see Stiles as more than his baby boy. The teachers at school hated him for being a “hyperactive menace” and Derek clearly thought he was immature. Deputy Sanchez was the only one who’d given Stiles a chance. He was beginning to feel even more thankful that Derek had convinced him to keep working on his research into the case.

‘So…what d’you do for fun then, Stiles?’

‘Umm…I read, play video games and see my friends.’ It was technically a lie as he hadn’t voluntarily spent much time with any of his friends in weeks. It was too painful to be with them when they all knew what he’d done to Allison.

‘You ever go clubbing?’

‘Er, no ID. I’m only seventeen.’

‘No ID? Surely a kid as bright as you, with a father who works in a police department, could nab a fake ID?’ he said in a hushed voice, arms crossed over his chest, eyebrow raised suggestively. He laughed at Stiles open mouth. ‘I may be a cop but I’m not a fool. I know what kids get up to. We’ve got loads of fake IDs that we’ve confiscated. I’m sure I could get you one.’ Stiles was taken aback. This guy was pretty cool. He didn’t exactly approve of what he was doing but it was hardly an offer any teenage boy could turn down, even if their father was the Sheriff of the town and would kill them if he found out. Stiles nodded at the deputy’s expectant expression. Sanchez laughed again and signalled for Stiles to wait where he was. He then went into the back room and, a few minutes later, was holding an ID card out to Stiles. He took it gingerly, looking around to make sure his father wasn’t in sight. ‘This was the one that looked most like you but no one will even look at your picture. I could have given you a fake ID with a middle aged Chinese woman on it and it would probably still get you into the clubs and bars.’ The picture did indeed look a bit like Stiles. The hair was lighter but the nose and face shape were very close. The age said the kid was twenty two years old. He supposed it was a little less suspicious to put twenty two rather than twenty one. ‘Just memorise the details and you’ll be all set.’

‘Alec Rodgers, born 1989, address; 44 Waterbridge Road, Beacon Hills.’ Stiles read from the card. ‘Thanks.’ He smiled up at the deputy who was watching Stiles with intrigue.

‘Maybe I’ll see you out sometime.’

Stiles gulped.

‘Maybe.’ The word came out strangled in his tight throat. If this wasn’t flirting, he didn’t know what was. He stood from the seat he’d taken at Sanchez’s desk and stepped away. However, his shoe caught on the chair leg and he tripped, only just catching himself. He blushed and tried to laugh it off, Sanchez watching him with a quirked lip. ‘I’ll umm, I’m just gonna…’ Stiles pointed to the exit and made for it quickly, cursing his long limbs.

Later that night, Stiles thought of the deputy while he lay in bed. It felt good to have someone interested in him. He still wasn’t entirely sure if Sanchez was actually hitting on him but either way, Stiles liked the attention. It was the same feeling he got when Derek had looked at him with hunger in his eyes. The feeling of being needed, being wanted, was intoxicating. He held the ID close in the dim light of his room, flutters of excitement in his chest. He was nervous to use it but couldn’t deny he was excited by the thought of going to a club and being treated like an adult. He put the card safely in his wallet and turned off the light. He settled into the sheets and, with the excitement buzzing through him, the nightmares were kept at bay that night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time;  
> Stiles begins to explore his sexuality by going to a gay club and perhaps gets himself into a little bit of trouble.


	17. Heavy Handed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello.  
> Kinda short but I hope you enjoy.

Saturday, 10th January

Stiles could hear the tumpa-thumpa of the music a block away from the bar. He’d parked his car away from the area in case someone might recognise it. He highly doubted it but he feared the repercussions if his father found out he was spending his Saturday night out in a bar, alone, using a fake ID. His hands were cold and sweaty as he walked down the path. The air was cool but he felt warm as his heart beat fast in his chest. The last time he had been to this club, the kanima had attacked everyone inside. He knew it wouldn’t happen again but the memories were still strong. And the thought of anyone from school being there worried him too. If they saw him and told his dad? What then?

He knew he was being irrational. If anyone from his class were inside they wouldn’t want his dad knowing any more than he did. No one would rat him out in fear of being caught red handed themselves. He just needed to keep cool. The only other worry plaguing his heavily occupied mind was the fact that he was going to a gay bar.

The thought of being inside a gay bar didn’t exactly scare him. He’d been there before, with Scott. He had no problem being with gay people and in many ways it was the same as any straight bar. But what concerned him was what he would find in himself when he went inside; when he opened the doors to this new side of himself. He’d never explored it before Derek. And suddenly new thoughts and new desires were flooding in. He already had enough to deal with without having to figure out his sexuality on top of it all. He knew he liked girls and he was beginning to understand his attraction to men but what was he? Society placed such an important weight on labels and titles that Stiles found himself wondering where exactly he fit in. He was floundering in a sea of different types of people and wondered if perhaps he belonged anywhere. He never had before so it seemed only entirely possibly that he, once again, would find himself on the outside, looking in. But the only way to know would be to go and find out. And so, he stood outside the club, feet frozen on the spot, looking along the long line of people queuing to get inside.

He checked for his ID card in his wallet, even though he knew it was there, and nervously joined the queue. The guys in front of him were taller and broader and more attractive than Stiles could ever hope to be but they smiled at him briefly as they caught eyes. The hammering in Stiles chest slowed a little. He looked at what they were wearing and compared it to his own outfit. Jeans, tight t-shirt and a light jacket. They were pretty much the same. Stiles’ shoes were a little less fashionable and a lot dirtier but how often did anyone look at a guy’s shoes anyway? A few girls bumped into Stiles’ back as they, too, joined the queue. They laughed and one lay a hand on his back in apology. Stiles gave them a nod and turned back to face the front. So far, he felt at ease. He saw no real difference between himself and anyone else. No one was giving him odd looks because he didn’t belong. So far, everyone had accepted him.

The queue moved along and Stiles’ nerves kicked back in. He could see the bouncers up ahead, checking ID’s meticulously. The security had been rather lax before the kanima incident. He and Scott had gotten in easily, no ID required, only then to be refused service at the bar. But after the “drug” scare, bags were checked as well as ID. Stiles had no idea how thorough they would be and wasn’t sure if his ID would pass. He was beginning to wish he’d asked Scott to come with him. Of course they would have needed another ID which they would have been unlikely to find at an affordable price, but Stiles couldn’t help wishing his best friend was there. He knew their friendship was still strained, his own fault really, but he didn’t know how to fix it. So much had changed in the last year. Stiles had changed. Scott had changed. They weren’t the same kids they once were and life wasn’t as simple as it used to be. Their friendship was not the carefree one it once was and every decision they made was now one that could be life changing. Each move in the game of life was a risk and Stiles was afraid of rolling the dice. So he was hiding. He was running away and hiding. He knew he couldn’t hide forever but for now he was going to try and enjoy being “off the grid”. His father thought he was out with friends, Scott thought he was home and neither of them would suspect anything because they had no reason to see one another as his father was working all night and Scott was visiting Allison.

Stiles reassured himself that he was doing the right thing as he got closer to the entrance. Derek had told him to do “him”. He needed to be who he was and channel his energy into something he was good at and enjoyed; something that gave him a purpose and worth. Who was to say he couldn’t find that in a nightclub? He’d just about convinced himself so when he came face to face with a very tall, heavy set man in a black coat, hand out expectantly. Stiles opened and closed his mouth like a fish.

‘ID?’ the bouncer asked gruffly. He didn’t even look at Stiles as he fumbled for his wallet and handed over the card. The man glanced at the details and the photo, looking up at Stiles for the first time. Stiles swallowed thickly, heartbeat stopping in his chest as time seemed to stand still.

‘Wassup?’ Stiles asked, trying to sound casual. It would have helped if he weren’t standing pin straight, save from his arms which were flapping a little at his sides.

The bouncer raised a brow, looking entirely unimpressed, and handed back his ID. He ushered Stiles inside. Stiles smiled and put his ID away. He resisted bouncing through the door, a victory leap, and hurried in.

The club was pretty much the same as he remembered it. The four-sided bar was in the centre and dance floors all around it. There was seating along the walls and a few stools at the bar. The music was loud and the lights were flashing. The dance floor was fairly busy but the bar wasn’t too crowded. Stiles had made it through the first challenge of getting inside but buying a drink would be another matter. They might not even ask for his ID but they might do to prevent anyone slipping past the check at the door. Stiles tried to act calm as he walked up to the bar and peered at the beer they had over the counter. A woman in front of him seemed to be ordering several cocktails, keeping the bar tender occupied. But he spotted Stiles from the corner of his eye.

‘Hey, what can I get you?’

Stiles felt his mouth go dry.

‘Uh, a beer. Budweiser please.’

The bar tender nodded, pouring the last cocktail for the woman who had been joined by her friends, each carrying off two of the colourful drinks. A bottle was then placed in front of Stiles and he watched as the cap was taken off and the price came up on the machine. Stiles handed over the money and took his beer, walking across the dance floor. He gave a relaxed sigh at the ease in which he’d gotten in and been served. He’d worried for nothing and reminded himself to thank Sanchez the next time he saw him. He wondered if he might see him at the club that night. He had suggested that he may see Stiles out some time but he could have meant any club or bar in town. Stiles still wasn’t sure if he man was even gay.

Stiles moved around the room, watching people dance and drink. People kissed and laughed and acted freely. No one seemed to have a care in the world and Stiles wished he could feel the same. He hoped he might begin to feel the way they did but with no one to talk to or dance with, he’d find that difficult. He once again wished Scott were with him.

He finished his beer and ordered another, beginning to feel more at ease with his surroundings. He didn’t dare move onto the dance floor in fear of making a fool of himself; he was highly prone to accidents, after all, and his limbs had a tendency to flail when he danced. The last thing he wanted was to take someone’s eye out. Instead, he leant on the corner of the bar, nursing his second beer. The room was filling up fast, more and more people coming through the doors. Stiles watched as they began to dance or migrate over to the bar. Others hurried over to friends, everyone leaping on each other in excitement. One group of guys entered and hovered by the door. A couple of them seemed to head off in one direction but pointed at the bar. The other two nodded and made their way towards Stiles. It was only as they approached and the light hit them just right, that Stiles realised one of them was Danny. Stiles’ heart dropped out of his chest. He wasn’t ready for anyone to know he was there. He didn’t want to explain himself because he had no idea how to explain. He contemplated making a run for it but Danny would see him regardless. He would have to deal with it the best way he could.

Inevitably, Danny spotted him and frowned in confusion.

‘Stiles? Is that you?’

‘Hey, Danny.’ Stiles waved awkwardly, his back going stiff.

‘What are you doing here? Are you with Scott?’ Danny looked around for Scott, clearly recalling the last time he had seen them there together. Danny knew Scott wasn’t gay because of Allison and Kira but Stiles had never dated before. He had no cover.

‘Umm, not exactly.’

Danny gave him a quizzical look.

‘You want a drink?’

Stiles looked at his almost empty bottle and nodded. Danny stepped up to the bar and ordered. Stiles smiled at Danny’s friend. It wasn’t someone he recognised from school for which Stiles was entirely grateful. Danny handed Stiles another bottled.

‘Thanks.’

‘Stiles, this is Oscar, a friend from my old school.’

‘Hi, nice to meet you.’

Oscar raised his beer in greeting before taking a sip.

‘So, if you’re not with Scott, who did you come with?’ Danny pierced Stiles with a hard look. Stiles looked down at his beer. ‘You here alone?’

‘Maybe.’

Danny looked at Stiles a moment longer and whispered something to Oscar who nodded and walked away from the bar with his drink.

‘Stiles, you don’t have to worry about what I think of you. I don’t care if you’re gay or straight or bi or whatever. I’m not gonna tell anyone that I saw you here, if that’s what you’re worried about?’

Stiles eyed him from under his tilted brow.

‘I umm…I’m just…’

Danny moved closer as the music picked up. He held Stiles’ shoulder, speaking right against his ear, making Stiles’ back tingle.

‘Relax. Your not-so-secret secret is safe with me.’

‘Not secret?’ Stiles repeated. ‘What do you-’

‘You’re not exactly subtle in the changing rooms, Stiles. I kinda figured.’

Stiles balked, his face burning red. He rubbed the back of his hed with his hand.

‘Well, you know. That’s just…checking for, you know, scientific purposes…purely educational, of course and…’ Stiles struggled through a few excuses but Danny simply smirked, shook his head and followed his friend into the crowd. ‘Fuck.’

Stiles was thankful Scott had not been there to witness his embarrassment but began to wonder if he’d made a big mistake. Danny had promised he wouldn’t tell anyone but how could Stiles be sure? What if Danny told someone and everyone found out? What if someone found out about Derek? Would Derek be in trouble because Stiles was technically a minor? If Danny told anyone at school, the consequences could be disastrous.

Stiles panicked.

He wasn’t ready for anyone to know. He wasn’t ready. He hurried off in the direction he saw Danny leave and pushed through the people on the dance floor. Drinks splashed around him and people shoved him out the way. He couldn’t see Danny anywhere and somewhere along the way he lost his own drink, dropping it when someone crashed into him from behind. He needed to find him, to make sure he wouldn’t tell anyone. He felt his temperature rise, his heart beating like a wild bat in a cage. The bodies around him seemed to grow, towering over him. It was only when he felt the hard floor beneath him that he realised he’d sunk to the ground. He felt an attack looming. His vision darkened and his hands went clammy. He sucked in breath but found little passing his lips. He tried to cry out but no sound was heard. Instead, he felt a pair of hands under his arms, hoisting him up and helping him stumble out of the crowd. His saviour led him to a stool by the bar and he leant against it. A glass of water was soon pressed into his hand and he was encouraged to drink. It was Danny, coming to his rescue. Stiles was making an even bigger fool of himself.

‘T-thanks…’ he stuttered. ‘I-’

It wasn’t Danny. He looked up from his drink to see an unfamiliar face. He started and moved away on instinct. The man held out a hand and steadied Stiles who was losing his balance, still not completely sure of his footing.

‘You ok?’ Stiles gaped but nodded. The man looked to be in his late twenties, maybe early thirties. He wasn’t overly tall but his jaw was strong and clean shaven. He smelled strongly of cologne and his shirt was crisply pressed and unbuttoned at the top. His hair was fair and gelled back neatly. His blue eyes were bright in the flashing lights of the club and his teeth were even more so. He had an enticing smile. ‘You looked to be having some trouble out there.’

‘Yeah…’

‘You taken something?’

‘Huh?’ The guy tapped his lips and then his inner elbow. ‘No! No, I don’t do drugs.’ Stiles exclaimed, his throat still tight. He took a long drink of water.

‘Good.’ the man said with a quirked grin. ‘They’d ruin that pretty little face.’ Stiles chocked on his water. It dribbled down his chin and he wiped at it frantically, mortified. He was so clumsy. The man seemed not to care about his lack of grace and bought him another beer. Stiles followed his lead, taking a seat at the bar and sipping gingerly on his drink. ‘You been here much before?’ Stiles shook his head, not risking speaking while drinking. ‘I thought so. You don’t seem overly comfortable.’ Stiles shrugged guiltily. ‘Well, don’t worry. I’m here now.’ He leant forward, giving Stiles a flirtatious grin.

Beginning to feel more at ease with his surroundings, Stiles forgot about Danny and the fear of word spreading. He happily accepted several more drinks from his new friend, buying a couple rounds himself, in return. He was sure the guy had offered his name at some point but couldn’t for the life of him remember it. They had gone well past the point of asking for him to repeat it. It didn’t matter. Stiles’ head was becoming fuzzy, his body warm. He let the man pull him onto the dance floor, leaning his weight heavily on him. Stiles could barely control his limbs but found he didn’t care. He let himself be hoisted up and a tongue forced into his mouth. He felt a numbing haze all over; he felt amazing. He couldn’t even remember why he’d been feeling so down. He still couldn’t remember, a few drinks later, when he was being manhandled out of the club by a pair of eager hands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Coming up;  
> Derek finds himself dealing with a drunken Stiles, once again. Only this time, in the arms of another man.


	18. Green

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello.  
> Just a slight warning; there is some suggested mentions of rape in this chapter. No one is raped so don't worry, but I thought I would just mention it in case it upsets anyone.

Saturday, 10th January

'You're making a habit of this, Stiles.' Derek said tiredly, buckling Stiles into the passenger seat of his car. 'Last time, I found you drunk behind the wheel.' Stiles struggled against him and pushed at his hands. He pulled at the door handle but found it locked. 'This time, you were trying to go home with a random man!'

'Eugh! I wasn't even driving then!' Stiles avoided discussion about their current situation.

'Not when I got there. But given a few more minutes, who knows what could have happened.' Derek started the engine. He could feel a rage still burning inside him from seeing Stiles with that man.

'Fuck sake, Derek. Shove off.' Stiles tried at the door handle again. When he found it still locked, he fumbled around the gear shift for the switch to unlock it. Derek reached out and pulled his hand away, fighting against Stiles' struggling.

'Would you just hold still?! I'm trying to drive here!'

'Then let me out.'

'No. I'm taking you home. You're a mess. I thought you were sorting yourself out but I guess I was wrong.' Derek felt Stiles' gaze on him. He chanced a quick glance at him. 'What?'

'You are just so...so...' he slurred and drooped his head, letting it loll between his shoulders. '...fucking dick...'

Derek let out a slow breath, trying to hold his temper. He took a right turning and knew they were only a few minutes away from Stiles' home. He hoped the Sheriff was working that night, assuming he must be if Stiles were out so late.

Derek was grateful for being out at such a late hour, himself. He had been several miles out of town, sorting his finance. Since Cora had come back into his life, he needed to organise his inheritance to split it evenly between them. He hadn't been able to get much done as Cora wasn't available but at least he'd made a start. The sooner he could make sure she was provided for, the better, despite how much she would complain that she was perfectly capable of looking after herself and had done so for several years. She always managed to make Derek feel guilty for not being there for her, for forcing her, albeit without knowing, to become the independent young woman she was even though she was no older than Stiles or Scott. He supposed it was part of the reason he felt so inclined to save the intoxicated Stiles he'd found wandering the streets with a man almost twice his age.

Derek had returned home that evening and realised he needed to go out food shopping. He had gone to his fridge for a late dinner and found it rather bare. He'd ordered in a pizza, a little indulgence never hurt anyone, and after eating, had gone to the twenty-four hour shop in the centre of Beacon Hills. Shortly after pulling away from his parking space, he'd noticed two figures ahead of him in the beam of his headlights. The smaller of the two staggered into the road and Derek swerved to the left to avoid them. It was only due to his werewolf senses and reactions that he was able to catch a glimpse of the figure and he groaned in frustration when he saw the drunken, goofy smile of Stiles Stilinski.

Derek pulled up a hundred metres or so ahead and climbed out of the car. He walked down the path towards the wobbling figure who was being encircled in the arms of an older, considerably more sober, man. Derek felt a flicker of rage boil beneath his skin. Stiles and the man didn't seem to notice him approaching until he was only a few feet away. Stiles was laughing, pulling away from the man's grasp.

'Hey, come back here.' The man laughed too, although his tone gave away his underlying irritation. He grabbed Stiles' arm in a tight grip and dragged him back into his chest. Stiles stumbled, scrambling at the man's half unbuttoned shirt. 'Don't you run away from me, baby. You coming home with me, yeah?' Stiles hummed and nodded, eyes closed with the threat of passing out. Derek stepped toward them and cleared his throat. The man looked up but Stiles continued to hold himself up using the man’s shirt. 'You alright?' the man said, nodding his head towards Derek, assuming he wanted to pass by. He pulled Stiles aside but became frustrated when Derek didn't move. 'What d'you want? Fuck off.'

'I was about to say the same to you.'

'You what?' The man squinted his beady eyes, unable to see Derek clearly in the dim lighting. Derek, with his werewolf powers, could see the scene clearly, even the way the man's hand had slipped beneath Stiles' jeans.

'I think you should go.' Derek said cooly.

'I'm trying.' The man pulled at Stiles and made to walk past Derek who held out a hand, pushing the man back by his shoulder. 'Oi, you little shit!' The man had clearly not taken in Derek's considerable size which easily overshadowed his own.

'I'm going to need you to let the boy go. He's coming with me.'

The man’s expression changed. He tilted his head back, eyeing Derek up.

'Oh, I see. You want to take him for yourself. Well you can jog on, buddy. I found him first. Go find your own twink.' He wrapped an arm around Stiles' torso and tried to push past Derek but came across a very firm blockade. He grunted and tried to walk around Derek but to no avail. 'What the fuck do you want?!'

'I think I've made that clear.' Derek's tone remained cool and steady. He nodded to Stiles. 'I'm taking him home and you're going to crawl back to the hovel you came from with your legs intact. If you're lucky.'

'You don't scare me, buddy.'

'No?'

'Nah, so nice try but fuck off.'

Derek was amazed by his eloquence and varied vocabulary.

'I'm gonna give you one last chance. I'm taking the boy who, by the way, is the son of the town’s Sheriff, and you can go home with no broken bones. How does that sound?'

The man paled a little, looking at Stiles warily. He didn't seem completely convinced.

'How can I be sure if you're telling the truth? For all I know, you're gonna take him for yourself.'

Derek sighed. He was getting tired of conversing with the halfwit. He reached forward and grabbed the man by his collar, pulling him close. He used the rage inside him to turn, watching as the man's arrogance fled from his face, along with all his blood. His eyes went wide and his mouth dropped in horror. He tried to scream but nothing came out and Derek dropped him. The man fell to his knees before scrambling to his feet, sprinting back the way he had come. Derek smoothed out the creases in his leather sleeves as he watched him flee, feeling his features settle back to normality. Stiles stumbled with no one supporting his drunken weight. Derek reached an arm around him and stood him straight.

'You gonna explain yourself?'

Stiles looked at him with a scowl.

'What? Explain who?'

'Yourself. What the hell were you doing with that man?!'

'Just makin' friends.' Derek folded his arms across his chest as Stiles avoided the question. Stiles huffed. 'Why do you care? He was a nice guy.'

'A nice guy? Stiles, he was going to take you somewhere and...' Derek rubbed his tired eyes with one hand. 'Come on, I'm taking you home.'

It was easy to drag Stiles to his car, despite his struggling. He hoisted him over his shoulder when he refused to walk alongside him and when he got to the car, Derek dumped him into the passenger seat and locked the door. He walked around to his own side and got in before Stiles realised the doors were unlocked again. He locked them once more as he sat behind the wheel. After Stiles' attempts to get out of the car and calling Derek a dick for caring about his safety, they remained in silence for the rest of the drive. Stiles slumped in his seat but Derek could tell the boy was sobering up. His eyes were wide, his expression glum. Derek pulled up onto Stiles' driveway and turned off the engine.

'You need help getting inside?'

'I'm fine.' Stiles mumbled, pulling at the door handle which was still locked. He looked back over his shoulder to bathe Derek in a glower. Derek unlocked the doors and Stiles hoisted himself out of the car. He walked around the bonnet, leaning against it to steady himself. Derek watched him reach the door and attempt to put the key in the lock. His hands shook and the keys fell between his feet. By the time Stiles had stood up with the keys in his hand again, Derek was behind him, taking the keys from his fingers and unlocking the front door. Stiles huffed and stumbled inside. Derek watched him pass the kitchen and collapse onto the sofa. Derek shut the door behind him and went to the kitchen to fill a glass with water.

'Drink this.' He handed Stiles the glass as he walked into the room and perched on the edge of the armchair. He held his car keys in his hands, toying with them between his fingers. He knew he needed to leave but something was rooting him to the spot. He told himself it was his inherently good nature that kept him from leaving Stiles when he was drunk and helpless.

'Thanks.' Stiles took the water and downed it, his expression still sullen.

'I'm guessing your dad isn't here.'

Stiles slammed the glass onto the coffee table and shot Derek a single word response.

'Work.'

Derek nodded.

'Well you better get to bed before he comes home.'

'He'll be out for hours still.' Stiles leant back and groaned. 'What a shit night.'

Derek scoffed.

'You looked to be having fun to me.'

'Well, I was before you butted in. Can't you ever keep your nose out of other people's business?' His words slurred.

'Alright, next time I'll just let you get taken advantage of by some stranger, shall I?'

'Yes, please do. If I wanna shag some random guy, I will. Stop following me around all the time and telling me what a terrible person I am.'

'I've never said that.' Derek shuffled on the armrest of the chair. He didn't want to argue with a drunk Stiles.

'Well, you might as well have. You are just so full of yourself. You always think you're better than everyone else.’ Stiles sunk further into the sofa, face creased in a heavy frown. ‘Well, from what I've heard, you're pretty damn fucked up. You've shagged some pretty questionable people in your time so you have no right judging me for my choice in sexual partner.'

A vein in Derek's neck twitched. Stiles was striking a dangerous chord. Derek let out another slow breath.

'I'm gonna go.' He stood and walked toward the door.

'Fucking pussy.'

The hair on Derek's neck prickled and his inner wolf swelled for the second time that night. Stiles knew how to push his buttons.

'Watch it, Stiles.' he said with his back to the boy. He heard Stiles stand from the sofa.

'What? You can dish it out but you can't take it?'

'Stiles.' Derek warned, turning back to face him.

'You don't like being called a pussy? Used to being the big guy?' Stiles stepped up to Derek, only a few feet away. 'Or maybe you're just angry because you don't like seeing me with another guy. Is that it?' Stiles moved even closer to Derek, his eyes hazy with alcohol, mouth quirked in a smug grin. 'You don't want me getting fucked by another dude?' He stood right up against Derek, fingers moving across his chest. Derek felt his eyes shift at the mention of that man. He could tell that Stiles knew what he was doing. He wanted Derek to snap, to give into temptation, induced by rage, successfully fulfilling Stiles' need for sexual contact.

'You're wrong.' He was burning with anger and lust, the two physical elements Derek used to anchor himself. Except this time, they were working against him, numbing all logic and reason. And the cause of his anger and lust was standing right in front of him, equally angry and horny. Derek was fighting a losing battle with himself and he knew it.

'Oh really? You're telling me you don't want this?' Stiles pressed their bodies together, his hard-on apparent against Derek's thigh. Derek held Stiles' gaze. 'You're just a selfish dick, aren't you? You don't care about me. You just like getting your dick sucked-'

Derek let out a rumbling growl. He'd had enough. He grabbed Stiles by the back of the neck and shoved him backwards until he hit the wall. He forced their mouths together and kissed him eagerly, glad of the silence. Stiles was unbelievably infuriating but Derek knew he could no longer resist. The boy was cocky and loud, rude and a smart arse but those were all the things that made him irresistible to Derek. They were all the things that made Derek’s heart beat faster when he was with him.

Stiles' eyes widened and he tumbled backwards, clearly not expecting his advances to crack Derek so spectacularly. This pleased Derek as he'd turned the tables on the boy. He dragged him back to the sofa. He looked afraid as Derek ripped at his clothes and manhandled his body, twisting and turning him anyway he pleased until he was satisfied and was pressing himself at Stiles' opening. Derek thought about pushing in, hearing Stiles scream in pain and shock. He wanted to do it, to scare him, make him realise how dangerous it was to mess about with a man who was not only bigger but immeasurably stronger than he was. He wanted show Stiles how easy it was for someone to take advantage of him. But he couldn't. He knew he couldn't. Not to Stiles. Not to anyone. He wanted to help Stiles, to ease his suffering. He knew it was his frustration talking within his head. He placed his hands on Stiles hips and leant forward.

'You ready?'

Stiles let out a moan.

'Yes.' he hissed, looking at Derek over his shoulder as he had earlier that night. Only this time, the expression on his face was one of desire.

Derek moved forward, pressing into the tight hole. He knew it would hurt. They had used no lube and Stiles had had no prep. But at least part of Derek's message might get through; not all men would give him the option to say "no".

Stiles began to groan in pain, the groan swelling to a gasp and then a scream. He sobbed at the pain as Derek pushed in deeper. The boy threw his head back, letting the sound reach the ceiling. Derek knew they were home alone, and as much as he loved the dirty obscenities that poured from Stiles' mouth, he couldn't be sure the neighbours wouldn't hear and rush over to assist Stiles in what sounded like an attack. He reached forward and grabbed a cushion, holding it against Stiles' mouth, keeping his nose clear to breathe.

'Fuuuuck!' Stiles cried through the velvet coated feathers. Derek could hear him with his sensitive ears but to anyone else, his moans would sound incoherent through such an obstruction. Derek continued to press forward, going faster than he normally would. While he was able to control himself enough not to let his frustration get the better of him, his sexual desire was strong and urging him on despite the roughness and discomfort. He was angry with Stiles but he wanted him at the same time. And this conflict resulted in a sexual aggression that Derek had rarely seen in himself. Stiles did strange things to him, that he was sure of.

The sofa groaned under them as they rocked as one. Derek held almost nothing back, his eyes shut tight. He could feel the heat of Stiles seeping through him, the lack of a condom making the experience more sensitive and pushing him to a climax much faster than he was expecting. It took neither of them long to finish. They were rough and fast, both a complete mess afterwards. Stiles came with a guttural cry and lay in a heap as Derek finished off, pounding into Stiles' backside. He stilled as he came, filling Stiles deeply. Derek panted and pulled out slowly, drying cum dripping onto Stiles’ arse cheeks. He pulled out some tissues from the box on the coffee table and wiped Stiles down. He felt a pang of guilt and wondered how he was any different from the man he'd found Stiles with. Stiles seemed pleased though, pulling himself up. He lay back on the sofa, panting.

‘Wow…’ He wiped sweat from his brow. ‘That was good.’ Derek ignored him. He busied himself by pulling his jeans back on, zipping them up. Stiles, stilled intoxicated, struggled to stand, although Derek wondered if that might have been a result of the beating he’d just taken. He reached out for Derek, frowning when Derek stepped away. ‘What’s wrong?’

‘I should go.’

‘Why?’ Stiles held onto the sleeve of Derek’s leather jacket. ‘My dad won’t be back for ages. Stay.’

Derek brushed him off.

‘No.’

He was still irritated at Stiles for being so irresponsible – and irresistible to the point that Derek lost his self-control.

‘Please…’ Stiles suddenly looked afraid, eyes wild. ‘I could do with the company.’ He gripped tighter to Derek’s jacket. ‘It’s harder when I’m alone.’ He looked to the floor, as though ashamed of the trauma he’d suffered. Derek knew he couldn’t leave now. He shrugged off his jacket and Stiles’ expression eased. His drunken smile was back. ‘You want something to eat? Drink?’

Derek was still full from his pizza but agreed to a coffee. Stiles stumbled into the kitchen to make it, Derek following to watch over the process in fear he might burn himself on the hot water. Stiles laughed to himself as he filled the kettle.

‘What’s got you so chipper?’ Derek asked with little enthusiasm. Stiles giggled again.

‘Just thinking about…’ He looked towards Derek’s crotch. ‘You didn’t use a condom.’

Derek shrugged. He hadn’t exactly thought about it. He’d been too angry. He knew he didn’t really need to use one with Stiles as he couldn’t get pregnant and he had no sexual diseases to pass on.

'To be honest, I was kinda surprised you had condoms in your bedside table.'

'Why, should I be keeping them somewhere else?' Derek’s voice was laced heavily with sarcasm. He stood, leaning against the doorway, arms folded. He was looking around the room, disinterestedly. In reality, his body was still buzzing from the explosive orgasm he’d just had and he was feeling a little light headed.

Stiles laughed, turning on the kettle and getting two mugs from the cupboard.

'No, it's just, you're a werewolf. You heal instantly so you can't possibly have any STD's or anything and if you caught one - not that _I_ have any! - you'd heal. And it's not like I can get pregnant.'

Stiles, it seemed, in his drunken stupor, had forgotten one thing.

'You know, not all my sexual partners know I'm a werewolf. They'd prefer me to wear a condom, especially when pregnancy is a possibility.'

Stiles' mouth curved down.

'Oh.'

The look on his face suggested he hadn't thought of Derek sleeping with other people. In his teenage mind it was just the two of them; Stiles was special and those condoms were there only for him. Derek suddenly felt the need to ease his mind, to justify himself. To explain that while he'd had sex with many women, there were none he was currently seeing. But then he thought to himself; he didn't love Stiles, he wasn't his boyfriend and therefore had no reason to justify having sex with other people. He had every right. But the look on Stiles face did something to Derek that he wasn't comfortable with, that he didn’t understand, and before he knew it, the words were tumbling out of his mouth.

'But none of them were recent. I've not been with anyone else in a while.'

For the second time that night, the look on Stiles' face brightened and the tension in Derek's chest eased. He even found himself smiling at the boy. He quickly schooled his expression and scolded himself. He knew all Stiles wanted was his attention. He needed someone to see how he was suffering and save him. Derek guessed Stiles had chosen him for the job.

He wasn't sure how he felt about his new occupation. On the one hand, Stiles was technically still a child and what Derek was doing was illegal. On the other, Derek had so far done very little to resist Stiles, giving in to his strong attraction to the boy. He even enjoyed his company, although he'd never admit it. He also knew that he was partly to blame for the complicated situation they found themselves in. He'd submitted to Stiles' desperation but also initiated sex himself. Something had happened to his logic when Stiles appeared at his door on Christmas Eve with a monstrous birthday cake made just for him. Stiles had treated him with more kindness than some of his old, so-called, friends ever had. He'd been incredibly touched by his generosity and, in that moment, he understood the desperate need for human contact that Stiles had been craving.

Derek groaned internally. It was easy to convince oneself that something you liked was good for you or the right thing to do. He knew one thing for certain; Stiles was a bad influence on him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope no one was upset by the sexual aggression. The characters both consented to it and Derek was simply thinking about how vulnerable Stiles is and how easy it would be for someone to take advantage of him, not that he wants to take advantage of him or force himself on Stiles. I just wanted to make that clear.  
> Coming up:  
> The scene continues from Stiles' POV and Derek finally comes to a decision.


	19. Open Invitation

Saturday, 10th January

‘We need to talk seriously for a minute.’ Derek said with a blunt expression, taking the coffee that Stiles offered. Stiles’ gut churned. He wondered if it might be the last pint he’d down.

‘Umm, ok.’ He walked his own mug to the living room, legs wobbling from the alcohol. He could feel himself sobering up, especially after the way Derek had pounced on him. ‘What’s up?’

Derek followed, once against taking a seat in the armchair. He didn’t reply at first, seemingly gathering his thoughts. He coughed and his eyes darted around the room. Stiles had never seen him so lost for words. He seemed troubled.

‘We’ve got to sort this out. We need to make things clear between us.’ Once again, Derek seemed unsure of himself, toying with words in his mind before he spoke. ‘I don’t know what you think but we’re not some sort of couple. This isn’t a relationship. We’ve just had sex a few times and, to be honest, I think we should stop. Although, I have to admit, I can’t see that happening.’ Stiles blushed. ‘So what are we doing? What do you want from me?’

‘If it makes you uncomfortable, we don’t have to do it again.’

Derek sighed.

‘Look, if this helps you in some way, if it’ll stop you from doing something stupid and putting yourself in danger, I’ll do it. I can’t exactly claim not to be enjoying myself. I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t good.’

‘But why? Why do you want to help me? You’ve never cared before. I’m pretty sure you’ve wanted me dead in the past.’

Derek grips his mug in both hands and looks into it. His brows come together in troubled thought.

‘Because I know how it feels to be alone. It makes you do strange things. It makes you isolate yourself even further than you already are and you lose people because of it.’ As Derek spoke, he looked off to the distance. Stiles could tell he was speaking from personal experience. ‘So, if you need to talk or…’ Derek gesticulated towards the sofa. ‘whatever…if that’s what you need to feel…normal…I’m here.’

Stiles felt his chest swell. What Derek was offering was friendship, or at least some form of arrangement akin to friendship. Whatever they wanted to call it, Derek cared. He wanted to help.

‘Just so we’re clear, I never meant for this to happen; this.’ It was Stiles’ turn to gesture, wagging a finger between them and the sofa where he now sat. ‘I didn’t seek you out for it. It just happened and I guess didn’t fight it.’

‘I know.’

‘I mean, I can’t deny that I find you attractive. I think I made that clear the night you found me drunk and took me to your loft.’ Stiles avoided Derek’s gaze, wishing to forget his previous actions. ‘But since…’ He swallowed the rock in his throat. Derek gave a sad smile to indicate that he knew what he was referring to, saving him from having to vocalise it. ‘…it’s been so hard.’ He felt his eyes sting. ‘I needed someone, something to…’ He could speak no more. He eyed the coffee mug which was rapidly losing heat on the table.

‘You don’t need to explain, Stiles. I’ve been there myself. When Paige died, I turned to Kate to take my mind off of what I’d done. I could have focused on school or basketball but the lure of open arms was far more tempting. It was easier to lose myself in pleasure than work towards healing for the sake of myself and my family.’

‘You think I’m doing the wrong thing.’ It wasn’t a question.

‘I don’t blame you for seeking physical contact. And I’m not going to tell you to stop. Just don’t lose yourself like I did. I lost everything because of it.’

‘I’m trying. I don’t want to lose anyone else.’

‘I know. Just don’t alienate yourself and keep busy. You still looking into those shootings?’

Stiles nodded.

‘I’ve been speaking to a deputy at the station.’

‘Good. What does he think about it all?’

Stiles shrugged. He could feel exhaustion creeping up on him.

‘He seems to be taking everything I say seriously, which is a nice change.’

Derek glanced away briefly, coffee mug still held between both hands. Stiles hadn’t intentionally tried to make him feel guilty.

‘That’s good.’

‘Yeah. He’s a nice guy.’ Stiles laughed a little. ‘He’s actually the one who gave me the fake ID to get into the club. I think he might fancy me.’ Stiles laughed again. It was a silly thought. He stopped laughing, however, at the sound of something snapping. Derek coughed and held out his coffee mug, followed by the mug handle which had broken off in his grip. ‘Err, are you ok?’

‘Yes.’ Derek said shortly. He cleared his throat again and spoke quickly. ‘I’m glad he’s helping you.’

Yeah. He is. He’s looking into some things for me, from my research.’

‘Good. Focus on that.’ Derek rose from the chair, his strong, muscular body towering over Stiles. ‘And if you need me…’ He left the offer in the air.

Stiles saw him to the door, his mind almost completely clear from the alcohol. He thanked Derek for bringing him home safely and, with his judgement returning rapidly, apologised for the trouble he’d caused. Derek simply nodded. He’d said his piece. He stepped onto the porch, turning back as Stiles peered out at the dark sky. The wolf paused for a moment, eyes flickering over Stiles’ face searchingly. Stiles’ lips parted but snapped shut again as Derek turned on his heel and moved to his car. Stiles watched him back out of the drive and disappear into the darkness.

Stiles headed back into the house, locking the door behind him. His dad would be home at some point that night but he didn’t want to risk leaving it open while he slept alone in the house. He took the coffee mugs to the kitchen, pouring his own, untouched beverage down the sink. He no longer needed the sobering effects of the caffeine; his conversation with Derek sobering enough on its own. He rinsed his mug and left it to dry on the draining board. Derek’s went straight in the bin. He wiped his hands on the tea towel and retreated upstairs, turning out the lights as he went. Once in his room, he changed into his pyjamas and climbed into bed. Lying with his head cradled by his trusty pillow, he promised himself that tomorrow would be better. Tomorrow he would think with a clearer mind and try to make a fresh start, starting with a long, hot shower.

xxx

Monday 12th January

The bell rang, startling Stiles from his intense gaze at his laptop screen. It was lunch. He closed the lid and put his computer in his bag. His free period before lunch had been spent in the library, researching old hunting families. It was all information he’d read before. He hoped he might see something he’d previously missed. But he’d promised to meet Scott for lunch and hurried down to find him. He found him by his locker, talking to Danny. Stiles waved to them both. He felt a rush of panic as they walked towards him. Had Danny told Scott that he’d seen Stiles at a gay club, seen him leaving with an older man? He had to force himself to stay where he was and not run and hide. He avoided Danny’s gaze, smiling to Scott.

‘Hey, you ready for lunch?’

‘Hey, yeah.’ Scott turned to Danny. ‘Cool, I’ll see you at practice later.’

Danny nodded, raising a brow to Stiles as he passed. Stiles watched him walk around him, grabbing onto Scott’s arm.

‘What did he tell you?’

‘Huh?’ Scott looked at the hand on his bicep. ‘What are you on about?’ Stiles looked around them and pulled Scott towards the lockers again, away from the thoroughfare of the corridor. ‘Stiles?’

‘Danny, what did he say? What did-was he saying anything?’

Scott frowned with confused eyes.

‘I was asking him about lacrosse practice…’ Scott said as if it were obvious. Stiles let go of his arm. Of course it was obvious. Stiles was being paranoid.

‘Oh, sure.’

‘Yeah, Coach changed the practice time.’

‘Right.’ Stiles said distractedly.

‘What is up with you?’

‘Nothing. I’m fine. So…lunch?’

Scott was still looking at him with concerned eyes. They began to walk to lunch when Scott stopped.

‘Oh wait. He did say something.’ Stiles’ heart stopped. ‘It was earlier today. He asked me if I’d heard anything from Ethan. He’s not been in contact with Danny for ages.’

Stiles was relieved but tried not to show it.

‘Ethan?’ Stiles swallowed a pill of guilt. Ethan had lost his twin brother at Stiles’ hands. Stiles scolded himself. He needed to keep positive.

‘Yeah. They decided to keep in contact but Danny says Ethan hasn’t been replying to his messages. He just wondered if he’d spoken to me.’

‘And?’

‘No, nothing. Not that I expected him to. We hardly got on.’

Stiles nodded in agreement. As bad as he felt for what happened to Aiden, the twins weren’t exactly his friends. Lydia had been the most affected of their group by Aiden’s death. Stiles had a feeling she thought she could change him, although she never would have admitted to caring enough to try.

‘I guess he’s just moving on.’

Scott shrugged.

‘I suppose. Anyway, food?’

‘Yeah, yeah.’ Stiles followed Scott down the hall. ‘By the way, what was that thing about lacrosse practice?’ Scott rolled his eyes, laughing and walked away. Stiles put his hands up. ‘No? Scott? S-Scotty? Really? I need to know these things!’ He hurried after him.

Stiles spent the rest of the day trying to remember Saturday night. He could remember most of it but there were some patches missing. In the changing room, waiting for practice to start, he cycled through what he could remember. He remembered going to the club and seeing Danny. He remembered Derek taking him home and the events that took place after that but everything in between was somewhat hazy. He knew he’d left the club with a guy. The thought made him shudder. He had been a fool. He’d gotten drunk and almost let a stranger take him home. He realised then, as Coach arrived with a half arsed apology for being late due to a dentist appointment, how lucky he was that Derek had been there. He owed him a lot.

The team moved out onto the field to warm up and Stiles thought more about how Derek had helped him. He’d offered himself to Stiles as stress relief. He was at Stiles’ disposal, for want of a better word. It sent a shiver of excitement through him at the thought that he could go to Derek whenever he wanted. He had to put that thought aside when they began a game. As before, the game gave Stiles the energy he’d been lacking. He felt everything clear and the only thing he had to worry about was getting the ball. It was like having Derek’s hands on him. The buzz he felt running up and down the field was like having Derek’s eyes running along his body, followed by soft finger tips. The beads of sweat trickling down his back, the same as when the room overheated from frantic touches and heavy breath. And catching the ball was like being grabbed in Derek’s strong arms and thrown onto the bed. Stiles only just missed the ball that came flying at him. He ducked out of the way, the ball whizzing overhead. He dropped his stick down to hold it over his crotch which was swelling frantically by the second. His mind had wandered to the point that he’d forgotten to run after the ball.

‘Ehlinsi! Wa aar ou pwayin ah?!’ Coach yelled across the field. The cotton wool in his mouth, from the injection he’d had at the dentist’s, muffled his words but the jumping up and down made his thoughts clear.

‘Sorry, Coach!’ Stiles plodded off the field, hiding himself from the rest of the team. He hurried into the changing room under the pretence of needing to use the toilet. Once inside, he dropped his stick, pulled off his helmet and locked himself into a cubicle. He grappled with his hand guards, struggling to pull his shorts down. His cock popped out, hard and dripping. He grasped it in cold hands, sucking in a harsh breath at the contact. He knew he had to be quick. He could have waited for it to go back down but considering the mental images he was seeing, that was unlikely to happen. He pulled and pumped faster than he thought possible. It didn’t take long for him to reach his climax, Derek’s tantalising body, rippling in muscles, his lips pressing over Stiles’ head- he came hard and fast, jerking into the toilet bowl. He splashed the seat, cursing. When he’d drawn out every last drop, he grabbed some paper from the roll and cleaned himself up, followed by the toilet seat, and flushed away the mess. He pulled his shorts back up and ran out onto the field where Coach had hardly noticed his absence.

Scott ran over to him as he pulled on his gloves and helmet.

‘You ok?’

‘Yeah, fine.’ Stiles panted, smirking beneath the grid over his face as Scott patted his shoulder and ran back to his starting position. ‘Just fine.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Coming up:  
> While Stiles begins to get more serious about his research and Derek fails to resist his desire for him, someone else fears for their life.


	20. Liar

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello.  
> This chapter was actually the main reason for the choice in title. I started writing this story years ago but most of it was written this past year. I can't remember if I had written this chapter at the time or not, but Selena Gomez's Bad Liar song came out and I just loved it. I listened to it and imagined Derek trying to resist Stiles but completely unable to stop himself from watching him from afar. (I feel like the song also influenced the next chapter too.) I then realised that the song title was suitable for the whole story as both Stiles and Derek are really bad at hiding and expressing how they feel.  
> Anyway, thought you might be interested in where the title choice came from haha. Basically just me rambling.  
> Enjoy.

The marks on her wrists were still sore. She rubbed them as she paced the small room. The chain had only just been removed and the skin was a painful red, blotched with purple bruises that wouldn’t heal for some time. Her whole body ached but she refused to sit. She’d been sat for weeks, tied to the wall and was finally able to shake the feeling back into all reaches of her body. She didn’t know why she’d been allowed to move about the room. She was usually only allowed up when she needed the loo or to eat. While she was given privacy to use the bucket they had provided as a toilet, her meals were monitored. She wasn’t given a knife or folk, not that the gruel they gave her required them, and she had to eat with her hands. She was dirty and could feel the hardened sweat crease as her flesh moved. And her teeth felt heavy with plaque. She tried her best to clean them with her nails, scraping at them when she had her hands free during meal times. They would laugh at her, whoever it was watching her. They took it in turns. Sometimes they said nothing, not deeming her important enough for conversation, or they took the opportunity to torment her. She wasn’t entirely sure how long she’d been there for but, sometime around the second week, one of them, a handsome looking man with polished black boots, came to monitor during a meal. She was only just able to make note of his attractive face and clean boots before he pushed her to the floor, shoving her face into the grey porridge they had given her. She’d fought him and was quickly chained back to the wall.

When she was first thrown into the dark pit that had become her new home, she had been questioned. They asked her for information and she refused to give it. She wasn’t afraid at first. She was sure she could get away, until she realised who it was she was dealing with. She quickly lost faith when she realised the severity of the situation she had found herself in. But she still refused to speak.

xxx

Thursday, 15th January

Stiles hummed, scrolling the mouse down. He twirled a pen between his fingers. He hummed again. The mouse clicked as it rolled. He shuffled his paper and clucked his tongue. He hummed once more.

‘For god’s sake! What is it?’

Stiles looked up at his father from the dining room table where he’d set up his little research unit. His dad sat across from him, also working on a case. They had been working in relative silence for the last hour. They sometimes shared a titbit of information, Stiles asking his dad for advice and receiving distracted responses. However, it seemed he had done something to irritate his father.

‘What?’

‘You’re being so loud. You keep huffing and humming and sighing. If you want to ask me something, just ask.’

‘Well, I would but you’re busy.’

‘I am but I won’t get anywhere with you clucking like a chicken over there.’ his dad grumbled, crossing something out on a piece of printed paper. ‘Well, spit it out then.’

Stiles pursed his lips and clucked his tongue once more. His dad shot him a glare.

‘Ok, ok. I’m just looking at possible hunting families and trying to eliminate some.’

‘Not sure you can eliminate any suspects with such little evidence, kiddo. You’re jumping the gun.’

‘Maybe, but I’m trying to find out if any of them have any descendants living in America. If they don’t, I’m crossing them off the list. For now.’

‘Ok, what you got?’

‘Alright, not including the Argents, these are the names of the families I’ve found so far – they’re just in the order that I found them; Jäger, Silberstein, Sauveur, Legkiy, Popiół, Connolly, Whelan, Coedwig- and these are just the ones I’ve written down. There are so many. And these people must have chosen their surnames to suit their profession because they’re all connected to werewolves somehow; hunter, silverstone, saviour, light, ash- these can’t be coincidences, surely?’

‘Well a lot of surnames came from profession so you’re probably right. And bear in mind that a lot of those names came up because of the key words you were searching for. Some of them probably have little to do with hunting werewolves apart from the name they inherited from their ancestors.’

Stiles hummed again.

‘That’s true.’ He stretched the words out in thought. ‘There just isn’t enough information on some of these families.’

‘Ok, well write those ones off for now. Focus on the ones you can actually make headway with. No point struggling with the small battles when you have bigger fish to fry.’

Stiles raised a brow.

‘I feel like you’re combing several inspirational sayings there, Dad.’

‘Yeah well, they needed shaking up a bit.’ He demonstrates with a little wiggle of his shoulders.

Stiles laughed. His dad stared at him.

‘What?’

‘Nothing.’ The Sheriff looked back down at his work, a soft smile on his lips.

Stiles took his dad’s advice and cut out the families he had little information on. However, even the names with the most information available proved difficult. He couldn’t trace many of the names through to modern day. Some of the names were too common to track a single family unit and others just simple disappeared. He managed to track the Silberstein family through to the turn of the twentieth century but then they seemed to vanish from history. He knew it would take a lot of research to find anything conclusive and the internet was probably only going to take him so far. How often did people post about werewolf families anyway? Those still active were hardly likely to advertise their existence or profession. It was entirely possible that many of the families Stiles was researching were still alive and still hunting but under new names or just out of plain sight.

Stiles growled in frustration.

‘How likely is it that any of these families even moved to America anyway? They’re all from Europe.’ He pushed his laptop away, crossing his arms and sighing.

‘Well most of the myths of monsters that people are familiar with originated from Europe. I guess those myths had to have come from somewhere.’

Stiles nodded in agreement. His father was right; many of the myths and legends he had grown up reading about were from Europe; Scandinavia, Norway and so on. He remembered reading about a monster called the Nattmara, a race of she-werewolves that could turn themselves into sand and slip into even the smallest of spaces. They would wear long, white gowns and terrorise people by riding their chests. Now he was older, had he not known about the supernatural, he would have thought it simply a kinky chick with anger management issues.

He smirked to himself.

‘Another smile.’ his dad mumbled around the pen between his lips.

‘Huh?’

‘Nothing.’

Stiles was reminded how much he loved his father.

xxx

Friday, 16th January

It was almost a week since Stiles had seen Derek. They hadn’t spoken since Saturday night and Stiles was wondered if he regretted offering himself as an ear to bend and a physical distraction. He also wondered how long he had to wait before taking Derek up on his offer. He’d had enough of running in circles with the names of possible hunter families with little result and Lydia had brought it up over lunch that day, making sure to remind everyone how Allison was doing at the hospital. They had patched things up to an extent but Stiles fidgeted irritably at her attempts to guilt him into going to the hospital. She wasn’t as smart as she let on if she thought he needed reminding to feel guilty for what he’d done. He’d hacked at the chicken on his plate with his fork in irritation. He knew he was being bitter. Lydia didn’t blame him for what happened. In reality, he knew that no one did. But that didn’t matter. His own self-hatred was enough to convince him that no one could ever forgive him for the suffering he’d caused.

He wanted Derek.

He spent the rest of his evening checking his phone for messages. He typed out a few messages of his own but deleted them straight away. He had been given the green light by Derek but was afraid to put the offer into gear, so to speak.

His mood was later darkened still when he received a phone call from Deputy Sanchez who wanted to let him know that his lead in Arizona had fallen through. Sanchez had gone in search of the man, Álvaro Urzua, but when he got there, he found out the man had moved several months ago and his neighbours had little information as to his whereabouts. Stiles’ heart sank and he thanked the deputy for looking into it for him. He supposed that meant his weekend would be spent trying to find a new lead.

xxx

Monday, 19th January

He could smell the sweat on him from across the field. The smell hit him full blast, assaulting his nostrils, moments after Stiles had entered the changing rooms. He must have taken off his shirt. The thought made Derek shift in his seat.

The past hour had found Derek sat behind the wheel of his car, parked along the road adjacent to the school sports field. He'd watched as the lacrosse team rolled out onto the grass and warmed up, spotting Stiles at the back, half-heartedly following the commands of their coach while he chatted animatedly to Scott about something – Stiles seemed a little more like his normal self. The distance from the car to the team and the pane of glass between them was enough to prevent Derek from listening in. Not that he wanted to. He had been quite content just watching. He'd found himself surprisingly impressed by Stiles agility and speed. He'd never struck Derek as the sporty type but he supposed there was always one sport that suited a person better than any other. His had always been basketball. He missed it sometimes.

The team had cycled through some basic exercises, each having a turn as goalie and several turns at scoring. Stiles made just over half his goals but failed to stop all but one ball when it came time for him to defend. The ball he had stopped had also been Scott's which reduced Stiles' credibility as goalie even further. However, his general play was much better than Derek had expected. He'd obviously been practicing since the last time Derek had the misfortune of watching him play. His progress made Derek smirk with fondness. He felt almost proud. Derek rolled his eyes.

_Man up, Hale._ he thought to himself. He was there for something physical. Something purely instinctive. Something only Stiles could give him at the moment.

With the full moon that night, Derek could feel the strength of the wolf within him, pushing to get out. He was on edge, irritable and incredibly horny. He’d had thoughts of nothing but sex for the last three days and Stiles was the most frequent object of his sexual imagining. He’d restrained himself from contacting him because he knew it would only cause trouble to involve the boy in his full moon induced sexual tension. However, this resolve only lasted so long. When he woke that morning, he was unable to sate himself with a hand job and cursed Stiles for being in school and unavailable. He was even more enraged when he remembered that Stiles had lacrosse practice after school, hence why he’d had to wait outside the school for an hour. When practice was over, the boys fled back to the changing rooms which were closer to where Derek was parked and the waft of sweat on Stiles hot body was overwhelming. It confirmed his desire.

Stepping out of the car, he shut the door and locked it. Scanning the area briefly, he made his way along the side of the field, ears pricking up as he got closer to the changing rooms. He could hear water running and general chatter but he couldn’t hear Stiles. He was usually so obnoxiously loud. Derek walked onto the field, now only a couple hundred metres away from the door. He knew that while there may be security cameras around the outside of the school, as long as he did nothing to raise suspicion while on the premises, no one had any reason to look back over the security footage. No one, other than Stiles, would know he had been there. He waited just under the drooping branches of a tree along the edge of the grass for another ten minutes or so. He could just about hear Stiles talking and Scott's interjections. The rest of the voices seemed to be petering out and the water was no longer running in the showers. It seemed that Stiles hadn't yet changed out of his lacrosse kit and Scott was in a hurry to see Allison so had skipped the shower. Poor Allison.

Assessing that Stiles was most likely one of the only ones left in the changing room, Derek swiftly made his way across the field and stood against the door. He heard a couple boys from the team bid Stiles farewell as they left. And then there was silence. Derek waited a few moments in which the only sound was of clothes being tossed on a bench and bare feet plodding across tiled flooring. Derek pushed down on the handle of the door and slowly entered, glancing swiftly around the room. No one to be seen and only one set of clothes on the bench. Everyone else has gone back into the school, presumably to collect their books before going home. Derek closed the door quietly behind him as the sound of running water from the shower room started again. He walked through the rows of benches to peer through into the showers and sure enough, there Stiles was, naked and soaking wet. His back was to Derek and he clearly hadn't noticed his presence. Derek quickly stripped his clothes and tossed them onto the closest bench and walked into the hot shower room, standing only a foot behind Stiles. His body had begun to react immediately upon seeing the boy's naked form and he knew he wouldn't last long.

'Stiles.'

The boy jumped and spun around, water dancing off of his hair onto Derek's hot skin.

'Derek?! What are you doing here?'

Derek didn't answer with words. He had come for a reason. He had come for something he needed and he needed it _now_. No time for talking. He kissed Stiles into the wall, the both of them standing under the spray of water. Stiles reacted straight away and seemed to have no problem with Derek's rough attack on his lips. He didn't waste too much time and promptly turned the boy back to the wall and pinned his hands against it, above his head. With his other hand, he parted Stiles' cheeks and stroked the twitching pucker. He pushed Stiles’ legs further apart and pulled his hips towards himself. He pressed a single finger inside and listened to the way it made Stiles groan. He worked it in and out, a little harder and faster than he had before. Stiles’ seemed to notice as he hissed in pain. He didn’t ask Derek to stop, however, and so he pressed on. The second finger came much sooner than usual which, again, caused Stiles some discomfort but the boy was rolling his hips and his breathing was heavy with lust. Derek found this only served to push him on faster, his primal instincts brutally forcing him to achieve his goal.

He wanted Stiles right away and had waited long enough on the edge of the field. If he waited any longer, he would cum before even getting inside the boy. After squeezing a third finger in, much to the delight of Stiles who bucked his hips and cried out Derek’s name in a laboured, guttural voice, Derek pulled his hand away and lined himself up. Stiles knew what was coming as he took a deep breath in preparation. The pressure was incredibly intense, far more than Derek was used to but he had no time to wonder if he should have taken it a little slower after the roughness of last time and pushed forward. Stiles’ mouth was thrown open, his head as far back as physically possible. He looked as though he was screaming but no sound came out.

When Derek’s pelvis was against Stiles’ plump cheeks, he took little time in pulling back and thrusting in again. Stiles’ knees failed him and he began to slip down the wall but Derek was already holding him and pulled him up again, thrusting into his limp frame. Stiles groaned and whimpered Derek’s name over and over. Apart from heavy breath, Derek didn’t make a sound. He drove Stiles right to the edge of his climax and pushed him over it with such force that Stiles’ body collapsed once again and this time Derek lowered him to the wet floor where his cum was swirling with the water down the drain. Derek continued to plough on, holding Stiles on his hands and knees. It didn’t take long for him to cum too, Stiles’ moans of pleasure helping to build the warmth in his abdomen. And when he finally did cum, he increased his speed, slamming himself into Stiles’ body. His eyes rolled back at the force of it and through the blinding haze of pleasure, he was aware of his claws digging into the soft flesh of Stiles’ hips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Coming up;  
> Derek and Stiles' new "friendship" begins to blossom and Stiles starts to get a better insight into who Derek Hale is.


	21. A Haze of Something New

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A short chapter but Derek and Stiles are finally getting to know one another.  
> Enjoy.

Monday, 19th January

Derek thrust again, deeper and harder. Stiles’ body jerked forward but Derek had a firm grip on his hips. He surged forward again, bringing a knee up onto the bed for better leverage. After a few more thrusts, he brought the other up too, forcing Stiles over the edge of the bed. Stiles used one hand to grip the edge of the mattress, the other palm down on the floor. He moaned as Derek quickened the pace, both of them drawing to a climax.

‘Fuuuu-u-u-u-u-k. Oh god, oh god, oh god, yeeesss.’

Derek simply grunted as he slammed into Stiles again and again, pushing him down into the mattress with a hand to his lower back. It didn’t take long before they were both cumming, Stiles throwing his head back in a deep cry, Derek squeezing Stiles’ hip, stilling inside of him. He gave a couple more thrusts as he rode out his orgasm and then pulled out, his dick heavy, hanging thick and low. He climbed off of the bed, leaving Stiles to lay in a daze.

Stiles rolled slowly onto his back, his arms hanging off the bed over his head. He panted and laughed.

‘Fuck, dude. _Fuck_.’ Stiles glanced up to see Derek already hurriedly pulling his clothes back on. Stiles bent his knees and felt at his opening with his fingers. He was lose and dripping. They’d never done it twice in one day before and Stiles was completely wrecked. It felt good. He knew he’d sleep well that night. ‘Looks like you need me just as much as I need you.’ Stiles laughed. ‘Maybe you won’t be such a grump now.’

Derek gave no indication of having heard him. He sat on the edge of Stiles’ bed, pulling on his shoes. They had dried themselves in the changing room after their steamy shower and dressed again only for Derek to drag Stiles into his car and drive him to Stiles’ house – chosen purely for the shorter distance – and rip the clothes off both their bodies again. Stiles knew it was the effect of the full moon making Derek behave the way he was. He needed physical contact to release the tension of fighting against the raging beast that threatened to break free and murder any living creature in sight. Stiles was only slightly ashamed to admit that it turned him on. He was also comforted in the thought that Derek needed him, wanted him, as much as Stiles did Derek. He’d been nervous about going to Derek, despite the open invitation, but in the end, Derek had taken that step for him. There was no shame in admitting need.

‘I better go.’ Derek said quietly. He zipped up his jacket. Stiles shivered, realising how cold it was as the sweat dried on his back. He was in desperate need of another shower.

‘Umm, yeah sure.’ Stiles clambered off the bed, slipping on the duvet and falling to the floor. His long limbs flailed in the air. He didn’t catch Derek’s eye roll. ‘So umm, thanks?’ Stiles wasn’t sure if he should be grateful for being driven home for sex, being forced to leave his car at school which would mean he’d have to take the bus the next morning. He scrunched up his nose at the thought. Derek seemed to have realised the predicament he’d put Stiles in and stopped in the doorway.

‘Do you need a lift to school tomorrow?’ He kept his gaze ahead of him, not turning to face Stiles. He spoke with a vagueness that Stiles assumed was meant to express an air of indifference.

‘No, I’ll be fine.’ He didn’t think Derek would be in any mood to drive Stiles to school the morning after the full moon. It seemed to be having a strong effect on him this month. ‘I’ll get the bus or something. Anyway, we don’t want people asking questions.’ The last thing Stiles wanted was his father finding out he was sleeping with an older man, especially a werewolf that he’d arrested in the past, even if he had been innocent.

Derek nodded and left the room, shutting Stiles’ bedroom door behind him. Stiles flopped back onto his bed, arms thrown above his head. He couldn’t help the grin that stretched at his face. He always felt great after seeing Derek.

xxx

Saturday, 8th February

The following few weeks found Stiles in a haze. After his visit from Derek, Stiles had no second thoughts in making his own visits to Derek’s loft. Any time he found himself drowning under the strain of school or his nightmares became overwhelming, Derek was there to comfort him, no questions asked. Most of the time they found themselves in bed, Derek showing Stiles thing he’d never imagined in his crude teenage mind, but sometimes they simply enjoyed each other’s company. Derek would read while Stiles did his homework or looked into the history of hunting families, quizzing Derek on his knowledge of each. One thing they didn’t discuss was Allison. Derek had tried to delve into Stiles’ recurring nightmare which Stiles had described with shaking hands but Stiles had curled in on himself and refused to speak further on the matter. Derek didn’t mention it again.

January soon slipped into February. As school work began to pile up, Stiles found he had little time for their silver bullet fiend. When he wasn’t writing essays, struggling to sleep and avoiding the mention of the hospital at all costs, he was with Derek, erasing the stress of the day. He supposed he could have channelled his efforts into his research but with so little evidence to go on and no recent shootings, he was struggling. And with the temptation of Derek only a short drive away, it was an easy decision to abandon his efforts and divulge in the pleasure of Derek’s body.

He’d even turned Scott down on several occasions, claiming he had homework or he was too tired to hang out when in reality he was counting down the minutes to the end of the school day so he could drive to Derek’s. He felt a twinge of guilt at the look of disappointment on his best friend’s face but the relief he felt after a few hours with Derek was too good to resist. Even earlier that day, Scott had called, inviting Stiles to see a film with him and Kira. Stiles had faked a yawn over the phone, promising to join them next time. Even without seeing his face, Stiles could sense Scott’s disappointment. He hung up and regretted his decision. He was planning on visiting Derek that afternoon but they had made no arrangement. He was about to call Scott back to ask to join them when his phone buzzed in his hand.

**Derek:** _Busy?_

Stiles was out of the house in seconds.

xxx

Saturday, 8th February

Derek had hardly put his phone down when there came a knock on the door. He stood, placing his book down on the small table next to him and walked to the door. He could smell Stiles’ desire through the thick metal and it sent electricity through his groin. Unlocking the door, Stiles barrelled through. Derek locked the door behind him and watched Stiles pull at his shoes, tossing them aside. Derek noted Stiles' socks, decorated with baseballs bats and balls. How fitting. As a human, Stiles had no supernatural powers to keep him safe and had protected himself with whatever weapon he could find. He'd made it through so far with only a baseball bat and sheer dumb luck. Derek supposed he should give him credit for his high level of intelligence but proceeded to roll his eyes at the obnoxious socks.

Stiles hopped down the steps towards where Derek had been sat but stopped in his haste as he noticed something different about the room. He looked upon the armchair with a tilted head. It was sat at an angle against the wall, a tall grey lamp plugged into the socket to its left. The armchair was made of black leather and dark wood, a cream coloured throw draped over the back. It was rather homely and completely out of place in the expansive, cold space of the lower floor of Derek's loft apartment.

'When did you get this?'

Derek came up behind him.

'Just the other day. I found it in a second hand furniture shop. I needed an armchair for reading.'

The chair was wide, wide enough to pull up ones legs and huddle when it was cold. However, as Derek had sat reading that morning, all he could think about was the other uses for his new chair. The most notable feature to Derek was how it was wide enough for another person to rest their knees either side of Derek’s legs. It was the perfect width for someone to sit over his lap. The thought had sent a heat creeping up Derek’s neck and distracted him from his book. He got stuck on the same page for forty minutes as the tightness in his jeans became unbearable and he eventually grabbed for his phone, sending Stiles a simple message. Stiles had responded in seconds with; _On my way_.

Derek was thankful for Stiles’ speedy arrival.

xxx

'A reading armchair?' Stiles asked incredulously. Derek shrugged as though it didn't matter if Stiles thought he were peculiar for his purchase. Derek was happy with it, it seemed. 'So what d’you like reading then?'

Derek held Stiles' gaze a little longer than expected and Stiles began to wonder if he had heard him. But then Derek walked away towards the sofa and bent down. Under the sofa he drew out two draws which were filled with books. Stiles stepped up closer and peered over Derek's shoulder. He glanced through the titles and authors and found them to be in alphabetical order. Derek paused over them for a while before picking out a thin book from the second draw, a fair way down the alphabet. He stood and handed the book to Stiles, sliding the draws shut as Stiles read the title.

'Of Mice and Men. I read this in school a couple years ago.'

'I read it in school too. I didn’t like it at first.'

'But you do now?' Derek shrugged again. Stiles turned the book over in his hands and noted that it was worn and tired. The cover was faded and marred with wrinkles that had distorted the image on the front. The title on the spin was almost completely gone from being held so often and the spine itself seemed as though it may fall apart at any moment. 'You read this often?'

'A few times a year, I guess.'

Stiles nodded and flipped the front cover open and found a small scribble, written in pencil, in the top right corner.

_Thanks for lending me your book. Maybe we can exchange notes sometime? P x_

P? Who might that be? Stiles searched his memory form names. Peter? No, he wouldn't have been borrowing Derek's schoolbooks and anyway, the writing looked like it might belong to a girl. It was neat and quite pretty. The kiss at the end suggested it was someone Derek had been close to. Someone he liked? Someone he had liked enough to keep this book for all these years and read it again and again, even when he had previously hated it, just because they had written a little message of thanks on the inside cover. It could only be one person.

Paige.

Stiles looked at Derek with intrigue. He was a confusing character; quiet, reserved, shy and generally unapproachable. But here he was, sharing a part of himself that hardly anyone else would have ever seen. He must have known that Stiles would see the message and figure out why he had held the book so dear, for so long. For some reason, Derek had deemed Stiles worthy of seeing that part of him that he usually kept hidden behind a dark scowl. Stiles bit his lip to hide his pleased smile.

'This armchair then; I better quality control it while I'm here.'

Stiles walked up to the chair, book in hand, and sat back, legs crossed. He opened the book to the first page and coughed deliberately, clearing his throat mockingly.

'A few miles south of Soledad, the Salinas River drops in close to the hillside bank and runs deep and green. The water is warm too, for it has slipped twinkling over the yellow sands in the sunlight before reaching the narrow pool. On one side of the river-’

'You finished?' Derek asked impatiently, although a small smile was pulling at his lips.

'Yep, your turn now.' Stiles smirked at Derek's raised eyebrow and placed the book down on the armrest. He stood and walked over to Derek, reaching out for his hand. He pulled and Derek came willingly. Stiles pushed him down into his newly acquired armchair and leant in close. 'Comfy?' Derek gave a short nod. Stiles grinned and got onto his knees in front of him. Derek seemed to realise what Stiles was intending and rolled his hips in anticipation. He then reached up to his left and pulled down on the little chain, the lamp flickering on.

'What's that for?' Stiles asked as he unbuttoned Derek's jeans. The bright light shining down on Stiles cast a shadow over Derek's face and all Stiles could see clearly was a glint of a smile.

'I want to watch.'

Stiles couldn’t help the wicked grin that rippled across his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Coming up:  
> Stiles is given something else to worry about when his dad calls him into the station.


	22. Trouble Ahead

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello.  
> A little Christmas present for you.

Tuesday, 11th February

Stiles pushed open the door before the engine had even turned off. He hoped out of the car and hurried into the Sheriff’s Station. He didn’t have much time to see what his dad wanted before he had to be back in class after the end of lunch break.

He was guided to his dad’s office where he found him sat across the desk from-

‘Mr Tate?’

The Sheriff and Malia’s father both looked up at him as he walked into the room. Stiles shut the door behind himself.

‘Stiles, thanks for coming. Take a seat.’

Stiles did as he was told, scanning the room. His dad had a fixed look for concern on his brow while Mr Tate looked pale with worry. His forehead was shining with a thick layer of sweat, his hands wringing.

‘What’s going on?’

‘Don’t worry son, you’re not in trouble.’

Stiles sighed in relief. When his dad had texted him an hour earlier, asking him to come into the station, Stiles had been sure he was in trouble. The last thing he needed was something else to feel guilty about. In ignoring his fears for Allison’s life and abandoning Scott over the last few weeks, Stiles was feeling pretty selfish.

‘So, what’s up?

His dad took a deep breath.

‘I wanted you to come in to ask you about Malia. Have you heard from her recently?’

Stiles frowned. He thought back. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d spoken to her.

‘We haven’t seen each other since she left town. We texted a little bit but she’s not replied in a while. I guess she must be busy. Why?’

The Sheriff bit his lip.

‘It seems that she’s not been in contact with Mr Tate for several days now and apparently you and Malia were close.’

‘Well, I still don’t know her that well.’

‘You were her friend.’ Mr Tate spoke for the first time since Stiles arrived. His eyes were wide as he stared at Stiles with hope and fear. ‘She spoke about you more than the others.’

Stiles recoiled as Mr Tate gripped at his arm.

‘I-I…We’re friends, yeah, but she hasn’t told me where she is. The last time we spoke she said she was looking for her mother.’

‘Why was she not in school, Mr Tate?’

Malia’s father looked panicked.

‘She was so desperate to find out who her real mother is…I was afraid that if I didn’t let her go…she’d never come back at all.’

‘Well, she was never enrolled at Beacon Hills High School so they won’t have any record of her or any idea where she might be.’ The Sheriff rubbed at the stress lines on his brow.

‘When did you last hear from her?’ Stiles asked reluctantly.

‘Monday.’

‘Monday? It’s only Tuesday.’

‘Monday, last week. She hasn’t messaged me or answered my texts in over a week now.’ Mr Tate turned back to Stiles’ dad. ‘Something has happened to her. I’ve only just gotten her back, I can’t lose her again!’ his voice began to raise and the Sheriff put a hand up.

‘Calm down, Mr Tate.’

‘I’m sorry…’

‘Why did you wait so long to contact the police?’ Stiles asked curiously. ‘And why didn’t you ask her where she was while she was still in contact with you?’ For someone so worried about his daughter, he didn’t seem to be doing very much to try and find her.

‘She’s such a free spirit.’ Mr Tate dropped his head. ‘She’s so independent.’ He wrung his hands again. ‘We didn’t speak every day after she left. She only messaged me every few days to let me know she was ok. I tried asking her where she was going and when she would be back but she just said the same thing every time.’

‘And what was that?’

‘”I’m fine. I’ll be home soon”.’

Stiles and his father both sat back in their seats in thought.

‘She must have told you where she was going when she first left.’

Mr Tate shook his head.

Stiles couldn’t help but think he was a bad father. His own dad would never have let him leave home with no word of where he was going. Although, the Sheriff currently had no idea about Stiles’ recent activities which might suggest he wasn’t involved in his son’s life as much as he should be but Stiles knew that was down to his own deception rather than his dad’s lack of trying.

As the Sheriff and Mr Tate continued to discuss Malia’s whereabouts, Stiles took in the gravity of the situation. Malia was missing. This wasn’t just another case for him to sink his teeth into, this was his friend, a friend who he’d made a strong connection with. Had she not left town, they might have explored the chemistry between them. The possibility of her being in danger sent a chill over his skin. He couldn’t lose another friend. It was already possible that someone was trying to kill his best friend, even Derek, and now Malia had gone missing.

Stiles stood from his seat and moved to the door.

‘Stiles, are you ok?’

‘I…need to get back to school.’

‘Of course.’ His dad gave him a tight smile. ‘Thanks, son. I’ll see you at home.’

Stiles nodded and hurried out of the room. He really did need to get back to school but also needed some air. He was afraid a panic attack might ensue if he didn’t.

He walked out into the entrance of the station, stopping at the call of his name.

‘Hey, Stiles.’ Deputy Sanchez called out cheerfully. Stiles turned to look at him. ‘I haven’t seen you around in a while.’

‘Uh yeah…’ Stiles said on a deep exhale. He was still trying to compute that Malia was missing while keeping calm. He looked down at his watch. He was definitely short on time.

‘You haven’t come in with anything recently. You still looking into the case for us?’ Sanchez asked with a smile that, to Stiles, seemed condescending. He didn’t know if it was his imagination, perhaps induced by his mind doing backflips over the news he’d just been given, or not. Either way it burned him with irritation. His fingers twitched.

‘Not really, no.’ he replied shortly. ‘You?’ His voice was hinting at sarcasm. Sanchez didn’t seem to notice and shrugged.

‘Still working on it but we’ve had to move on a bit. Other crimes need solving, you know?’

‘Yeah.’ Stiles waited a beat for a response but none came. He turned to the door. ‘I’ve got to go.’

Sanchez waved goodbye but his pleasant smile did little to improve Stiles’ mood.

‘Maybe I’ll see you out this weekend?’

Stiles didn’t look back but was sure he felt the man watch him leave.

xxx

Tuesday, 11th February

**Stiles:** _I'm coming over._

The text was short, to the point and Derek had no reason to argue with it. He had just come home from the gym when his phone buzzed, Stiles’ name on the screen. Derek put his gym bag down on the floor by the door and grabbed a book on his way to his armchair.

He left the door unlocked.

Stiles ambled through the door ten minutes later wearing an expressionless face. He kicked off his shoes and walked across the room to the stairs leading to Derek’s actual apartment. Derek followed with a raised brow and watch Stiles disappear into his bedroom where he promptly flopped down on his stomach. Derek closed his book, a little put off that he had not received the usual greeting. He walked to the bed and sat down with his legs out in front, a hand running along Stiles' back. The comforting and affectionate gesture startled Derek himself and he quickly withdrew his hand. Stiles abruptly rolled onto his side, facing away from Derek.

'What are you doing?'

Stiles shrugged from where he lay.

'Just not in the mood.'

'What mood?'

'You know what mood.'

Derek sighed. He wasn't sure but he thought he saw Stiles' shoulder hunch up, his body tense. Derek could smell worry and anticipation in the air.

'Ok.'

Stiles flipped over and looked up at Derek with quizzical eyes, a little sceptical.

'Is that ok?'

It was Derek's turn to shrug.

'Sure. You wanna just lie here instead?' Stiles gave him a wide eyed stare before twitching his nose in thought and finally nodding. 'I'll read then if you don't mind.'

Stiles seemed not to care and rolled back to face the other way. Derek retrieved his book and settled back onto the bed, legs crossed at the ankle. He was aware of Stiles' steady breathing and over the hour that they sat in silence, he was sure Stiles had nodded off more than once. When he finally moved again, he came to lie across Derek's thighs, looking up at him from under his book.

'Is it a good book?'

'Not bad.'

'You read it before?' Stiles reached up and traced a finger along the spine.

'Yeah.'

Stiles hummed.

'Why do you read the same books so many times?'

Derek huffed a breath and snapped the book shut.

'Does it matter?' He stared at Stiles, brow high in accusation despite the innocence of his questions. It was simply that he asked so many questions. It was overwhelming and sometimes insufferable. Stiles wanted to know everything. Derek felt a little like a puzzle that Stiles was trying to put together. He wasn't sure he wanted that puzzle to be completed. Not yet. ‘Why are you here, Stiles?’

Stiles looked up at him with fearful eyes.

‘You said I could...’

‘I know,’ Derek quickly laid a reassuring hand on the boy’s hair, stroking the soft locks. ‘but why are you here this time? What happened?’

‘Nothing.’ Stiles sat up and moved away from Derek’s reclined body.

‘Hmm…well usually you jump my bones the moment you walk in, unless you’re really upset, so…spill.’

Stiles fidgeted with the bed sheets which set Derek’s nerves on edge.

‘I went to the station today…’

Derek sighed.

‘I’m gonna need more than that.’

‘I went to the station because my dad wanted to talk to me about Malia.’

‘Malia?’

Stiles fiddled with a hangnail on his thumb, eyes downcast.

‘She’s missing.’

Derek leant back against the headboard.

‘What did he ask you?’

‘He asked me when I last spoke to her, which was ages ago and she hasn’t been replying to my messages and her dad hasn’t heard from her in over a week.’ Stiles began to ramble which irritated Derek’s sensitive wolf ears.

‘Maybe she’s busy.’ Derek held his book back up. He wasn’t worried and nor did he entirely care. Malia was independent; she’d spent the last eight years living in the woods all alone. No wonder she’d wandered off and wasn’t replying to messages and calls. She was a lone wolf, so to speak, and would probably be found when she wanted to be. Peter was the same; he was able to disappear when he didn’t want to be found and turn up when no one wanted him there. Derek guessed it was a case of father like daughter. He comforted Stiles with these thoughts and for the time being, it seemed to relax him. ‘You want dinner?’

Stiles seemed to cheer up immensely at the thought of food and happily called a pizza place for delivery. Derek yelled at him for ordering two extra-large pizzas when one would have been sufficient and refused to pay for them when they arrived. When the delivery did arrived, Derek went down and paid for it anyway. Stiles snickered as he came back in with the boxes balanced on one hand.

‘Your mood swings give me whip lash, you know that?’

Derek grunted. Stiles laughed. They ate dinner in front of the TV where Derek scolded Stiles again for spilling tomato sauce on the sofa cushions.

‘Would you watch yourself?!’ Derek shouted as another piece of pepperoni landed on his carpeted living room floor. Stiles was like an untrained puppy.

‘Sorry.’ Stiles picked up the offending slice of meat and ate it. Derek grimaced at the thought of the carpet hairs that were probably stuck to it.

‘You’re gross.’

Stiles grinned through a mouthful of pizza, the wet crusts squeezing through his teeth.

‘You love it.’

‘Hardly…’

Stiles swallowed and licked his fingers. His mood had lifted considerable, seemingly having forgotten his earlier fears.

‘So, you don’t like this?’ Stiles asked, pointing to his mouth.

‘Not when it’s full of food, no.’

‘How about when it’s full of something else?’ Stiles’ eyebrow quirked wickedly.

Derek’s own mouth began to water. He had no idea how Stiles could go from the goofy, annoying and kinda gross teenager he’d always known, to Derek’s sexual dream in only a few short moments.

Derek watched with slightly parted lips as Stiles walked over to him, pulling his t shirt up over his head. It was bunched up around his shoulders as he climbed onto Derek's lap, straddling his legs. Derek slipped a hand under Stiles’ bum, the other holding onto his calf. His lips ghosted over the slight stubble on Stiles’ jaw as the t-shirt fell to the floor between his feet. Stiles brought their lips together, rough and wet. He was needy and Derek could sense how desperate he was becoming for his touch.


	23. Drowning

A hostage situation came more naturally to her than she would have expected. She quickly became adjusted to the conditions she was faced with and the new daily routine. She managed to roughly figure out the time of day by the movement outside her room, meal times and even her bucket privileges. They always called it that even though she had soon figured out they would provide her with the “privilege” a couple hours after each meal. While they wanted to keep her in discomfort, it would be far worse for them to have to literally clean up her shit than make her suffer the embarrassment of soiling herself.

She also made sure to keep her limbs active when she could. Sometimes they let her walk around the room. She could only assume this was to prevent her from losing all feeling in her arms and legs. They must want her for something if that were the case. Other than that, she had little idea as to why she had been taken. Several weeks had passed with no word of why they wanted her or what for. Apart from some rough handling, they hadn’t physically harmed her which suggested they needed her in one piece. Perhaps she was a bargaining chip that needed to stay intact while they tried to get whatever it was they wanted. It made her wonder if anyone knew she was gone. Had they blackmailed her father for something? Money? Information of some kind?

Her theory went somewhat out the window when one day she woke up to someone else in her room. The figure was tied to the opposite wall where a thick lead pipe ran up the concrete to the ceiling. She couldn’t see who it was as they had what looked like a canvas sack over their body. For a moment, she panicked. Was it a dead body? Was it another hostage that they’d finished with and were going to dispose of? Her heart began thundering in her chest and sweat broke out on her brow until a grunt made her jump.

The body moved.

Whoever it was, they were still alive. For now.

xxx

Thursday, 20th February

Derek’s mobile buzzed against the cold steel of the table from across the room. He went to pick it up, his pulse jumping as he saw Stile’s name on the screen.

**Stiles:** _Meet me on Guild Street._

Derek quickly texted back.

**Derek:** _You mean outside the school?_

He only had to wait seconds before another message from Stiles pinged onto his screen.

**Stiles:** _Be there in 15 mins._

Derek was there in five.

He sat outside the school car park in his car where he knew the school security cameras couldn’t see him. The last thing he needed was to be accused of lurking around children, even if it was well passed school hours. He sat behind the wheel, one hand holding his phone in case of anymore texts from Stiles, the other tapping impatiently on the steering wheel. His eyes were glancing back and forth across the road, one eye on the review mirror in case Stile had decided to drive a different way than normal. He would never admit it but he was eager to see the boy. It had been over a week since they last met, Stiles clearly being too busy with school work. Stiles had called in the middle of the night, asking with obvious shame for Derek to come over. Derek had found himself surprisingly willing to drive to the boy’s house at almost three am and comfort him back to sleep after a particularly vicious nightmare. He had wrapped an arm around the boy as he drifted back to sleep and woken up at six in the morning, unaware of when he’d fallen into slumber. The sight of Stiles curled against him in those early hours of the day were disturbingly peaceful. Derek was sickened by the dreamy smile that formed on his lips and quickly went home before Stiles woke. He’d avoided contact with the boy since then. Now he wondered what Stiles had planned for the night. It was passed nine o’clock on a weeknight; not many options. And why the school?

Derek’s questions were soon answered. Only a few minutes later, Stiles’ battered jeep rounded the corner and he pulled up next to Derek, facing the opposite direction. Derek wound down the window as Stiles had done.

‘Hey, you’re here. You didn’t reply to my text. I thought I was gonna have to drag your furry ass down here to play with me.’

Derek said nothing, his usual brooding expression etched onto his face. Stiles gave his typical cocky grin. Stiles drove past his car and parked against the pavement behind Derek’s Toyota. Derek didn’t move from his seat, unsure where Stiles was planning to go. He watched the lanky boy hop out of his car and walk with a slight skip to Derek’s window.

‘You ready, big boy?’

‘For what?’ His voice was a litter gruffer than he had anticipated or even intended. An outsider would never have guessed the excitement Derek felt at seeing Stile’s pale, beautifully blemished face. But Stiles knew. He grinned again, completely unperturbed by Derek’s seemingly bad mood.

‘Some fun.’

“Fun”, as Stiles called it, involved sneaking around the back of the school to the gym entrance. Stiles assured him that the route they were taking wasn’t in sight of the security cameras and no one would know they were there. Derek decided not to question how Stiles knew this; having known Stiles for a while now, it seemed redundant.

‘What exactly are we doing here? I don’t want to get caught by your father for helping you break into the school.’

‘Shhh!’ Stiles hissed back, his mouth curved into an excitable smile.

‘Stiles-’ Derek grabbed his arm to stop him in his tracks as he scuttled against the wall of the building, a camera directly above them, unable to aim the lens directly beneath itself. ‘Tell me now or I’m going home.’

Stiles sighed.

‘Alright grumpy. I wanted to surprise you with something.’

Derek was instantly suspicious. Stiles reached into his pocket and pulled out a set of keys and a scrunched up piece of paper, holding them out for Derek to see. Derek raised one incredulous eyebrow.

Five minutes later, Derek was really wishing he had stayed at home and read a book instead. He stood with his arms crossed, face hidden in his hand in despair as Stiles fiddled with the lock on the door to the gym. He heard the boy curse under his breath before the door swung open. The moment it did, a loud beeping sent a shiver of shock through his body. But Stiles darted inside the doors and bashed the security code into the alarm system located on the inside wall. Once he had deactivated the alarm and the beeping had stopped, he poked his head out the door and grinned.

It was Derek’s turn to sigh.

Despite his doubts as to what Stiles had planned for the evening, Derek followed him through the gym to the edge of the large swimming pool. Stiles stood waiting for Derek to catch up, looking out at the clear water with smug grin on his face.

‘What are we doing here?’

‘God, you’re full of questions tonight. I think this might be the most you’ve said in one go. _Ever_.’ Derek growled lowly in his chest. Stiles patted Derek’s pecks. ‘I thought it was time we came back here for some real fun. The last time we came wasn’t exactly what you’d expect from a trip to the pool.’

‘Stiles, Jackson paralysed me with his Kanima venom.’

‘Yeah, not exactly what you’d expect, huh. At least, not in my experience.’

Derek knew Stiles was trying to be witty but he didn’t smile. This was a bad idea. The last time he was in this water, he almost drowned. Stiles had saved him, kept him above the surface for hours, treading water until his legs were exhausted. While he would never say it out loud, Derek had been afraid in that moment. His entire body was unless to him and he’d sunk to the bottom like a rock. It felt as though time had almost completely stopped in the few short moments of extreme panic in which he had been under the water but it had been enough to now set his teeth on edge as he eyed the water cautiously.

‘I’m going home.’ Derek said sternly and turned to leave. Stiles grabbed his arm and pulled him back. He stood level with Derek, only a couple inches shorter than the dark haired wolf.

‘Swim with me.’ The request was simple and his voice soft. But his eyes were alight with anticipation and Derek found himself unable to look away. The next thing he knew, a towel was being pushed into his hands.

‘Wha-‘

‘There are a pair of trunks inside.’ Stiles said before he could argue further, pulling another towel out from his rucksack. ‘They’re a pair of mine but they’re elasticated so they should fit you.’ He was referring to Derek’s much thicker stature and shape. ‘Unless you really do have too many muscles for your own good.’ Stiles said with a smirk that seemed to suggest a personal joke. Derek rolled his eyes.

‘I’m not gonna just change into these, right here. There’ll be cameras in here, surely.’

‘Only one and its broken.’ Stiles pointed to a camera situated above the door in which they had come through. ‘I heard Coach on the phone to security complaining about it on Monday. They’ve ordered a new one but it won’t be here until the end of this week.’

‘So that’s why you decided to steal the keys and alarm code?’

‘Well, we don’t want to miss out on an opportunity like this, do we?’ Stiles gave Derek a wink and dropped his rucksack to the floor. He made quick work of removing his clothes and before Derek knew it, Stiles was stood before him in only a pair of dark blue trunks. ‘Well, hurry up then.’ Before Derek could respond, Stiles was diving into the pool, ripping the calm, still water into violent waves. He resurfaced after a couple of seconds, a quarter of the way down the pool. ‘Coming in?’

Derek stood conflicted as he stared at the boy swimming back to the edge of the pool. He was fighting between his desire to please Stiles, something he never thought would appeal to him, and his own reservations. He didn’t want to get into the water, he didn’t want to get caught. But Stiles had seemingly gone to great lengths to make this happen. He had made sure they would get in with no fuss, having stolen the key, found out the code and noted it down and even made sure to find a way into the school where no cameras would catch them. He’d even brought Derek and pair of swimming trunks and a towel.

Biting his lip, Derek growled again.

‘Fine.’ he said in a huff, shrugging his leather jacket to the floor. ‘Just don’t complain when I come out smelling like a wet dog.’

Just like Stiles, Derek hurriedly stripped and pulled the swimming trunks on. They were black and, despite the elastic, a little restricting. He shuddered a little at the thought of Stiles wearing these shorts and how deliciously slender his body was. He had stood with his back to the pool, not sure he was comfortable with Stiles’ eager eyes on his junk. He felt like an idiot, self-conscious despite having been naked in front of the boy on many occasions. He didn’t delve into the reason for his sudden embarrassment.

‘Come on.’ Stiles called again, this time leaning his arms up on the side of the pool, water trickling down his face. Derek huffed and walked to the pool side, lowering himself to sit with his feet in the water. Stiles pushed away from the wall and swam to Derek’s feet. His held onto his ankles and smiled up at him. ‘Want some help?’

‘I’m fine.’

Maybe he could sense Derek’s discomfort because Stiles’ goofy smile dropped into a more sympathetic one as he slid his hands up Derek’s legs, soothingly.

‘You want to leave?’

Derek looked into Stiles’ eyes. God damn those eyes. He pushed off the wall and slipped into the water. It was a little cold against his hot skin. It only came up to his hips as he stood there in the shallow end. Stiles was crouched down in the water, almost fully submerged. He tugged on Derek’s hand and pulled him further into the pool. Once they were both in up to their necks, Stiles’ wide smile was back.

‘We really shouldn’t be here.’

Stiles rolled his eyes.

‘You’re such a downer. Come here and have fun with me.’ Stiles pulled Derek closer and wrapped his arms around the werewolf’s neck. Derek brought his arms around Stiles’ body, holding him up under his thighs. Stiles leant forward, pressing wet lips to Derek’s. Derek kissed back, finally feeling at ease. This was something he could do. The kiss only lasted a few moments but it sent Derek’s heart beating out of control. He was still in disbelief as to the effect that Stiles had on him. At their first meeting, that time in the woods near his destroyed family home, he had felt nothing but annoyance at the sight of Stiles. He was loud, obnoxious and ridiculously excitable. He was Derek’s perfect contradiction.

Stiles pulled away and gave Derek a wicked grin. Before Derek could properly comprehend it, he was being shoved under the water. His eyes were open as he went under and they stung like a bitch the moment the chlorine water touched them. He couldn’t see anything but a swirling mess of blue shorts and pale skin as Stiles swam away. Derek resurfaced quickly and spluttered.

‘Stiles!’ He could hear the boy laughing from the other end of the pool. ‘Get back here!’

‘Come get me.’ Stiles said seductively. He kept his face half in the water as he slowly swam over. Only his eyes were visible, wide and excited. Derek pushed off from the bottom of the pool and glided towards the boy. They met in the middle, both treading water. Stiles’ hands found Derek’s body once more, holding him at arm’s length. Derek broke the silence that had fallen between them.

‘A lot’s changed since we were last here.’

‘Mmm.’ Stiles agreed thoughtfully. ‘My hair is so much better than it used to be.’

Derek rolled his eyes.

‘Still looks pretty shit to me.’

‘Oi!’ Stiles splashed water into Derek’s face. He turned his head away to avoid getting more water in his eyes and pulled Stiles into his chest, holding onto him firmly, taking back the control. Stiles was still laughing but it simmered down as he looked upon Derek’s face. Their bodies were so close, their lips mere millimetres apart. Stiles stroked one hand over Derek’s cheek. ‘We’ve both changed a lot since then.’

‘You’re still as annoying though.’

‘And you’re just as grumpy as ever.’

They both smiled widely and Stiles darted forward to snatch a kiss. Before Derek could kiss back, his lips had pulled away.

‘What was that for?’

‘For smiling. I like your smile.’

Derek laughed.

‘Where did you pick that one up from?’

‘It wasn’t a line! Or at least it wasn’t supposed to be.’ Stiles wrapped his legs around Derek’s waist, causing the werewolf to sink lower in the water. Derek wrapped one arm around Stiles, holding him close, using the other arm to propel them back to the shallow end. ‘You never used to smile.’

‘Maybe I didn’t have anything to smile about.’

‘What about now?’ Stiles asked with a smirk. However, the sincerity and anticipation in Stiles’ eyes gave him away; he was hoping for a certain answer.

‘Things are…good.’ Stiles looked at him for a moment, expression blank. He then gave a small nod, eyes fixed on the water between them. Derek shifted Stiles in his arms and held him bridal style. Stiles let him manipulate him with no complaint. ‘This isn’t where I expected to be.’ He spoke in a soft voice, almost to himself.

‘What, not your usual week night activity?’ Stiles’ cheeky tone was back.

Derek shook his head.

‘I don’t mean tonight. I never expected to be…’

‘…to be happy?’

Derek’s brow came together in a troubled yet soft frown. Stiles’ eyes fell once again and he rested his forehead against Derek’s neck.

‘Are you?’

Stiles must have been surprised by Derek’s question because he looked up at him with an expression of confusion.

‘I-’ His brow furrowed as Derek’s had done. ‘I guess.’

‘I know things have been difficult…after the Nogitsune.’ Stiles’ body shook violently at the mention of the name. Derek’s grip on his instantly tightened in an attempt to comfort him. Stiles had remembered committing so many terrible acts at the hands of the Nogitsune and he remembered enjoying the sensation of destroying people’s lives. Not only that but he had been fooled into believing that he was dying from the same form of dementia that killed his mother. Somewhere along the way, he must have reached his breaking point. Stiles had seemingly bounced back from the effects of the trickster spirit over the last few months but Derek sensed there was still something more behind his happy façade. Maybe that was why they were at the school pool; Stiles was trying to go back to a time before his conscience had been tainted with innocent blood. ‘You must be pleased about Malia?’ Derek tried.

Stiles nodded, eyes cast away.

Malia had seemingly begun reply to her father’s messages again, reassuring him that she was ok and that the lack of communication was due to her phone needing a new battery. Derek knew it must have been a relief for Stiles.

‘I was worried it might have had something to do with the shootings.’

‘Me too.’ Derek watched as Stiles’ expression continued to darken. He was still so overwhelmed and something was stopping him from facing his fears head on. Instead, he was using Derek as a shield from his problems and Derek was beginning to feel conflicted by his eagerness to comply. ‘Have you thought any more about going to see Allison?’ He knew the reaction would be negative and tightened his grip around Stiles’ waist to prevent him from fleeing. They had drifted towards the shallow end as they spoke and could now stand on the bottom. Derek held Stiles almost in his lap as he crouched in the water.

‘I know…I know I should and I want to, I just…’

Derek didn’t need Stiles to explain. He understood; nothing had changed. Stiles was still hurting and still too afraid. Derek simply prayed he was doing the right thing to help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed the fluff ;)


	24. Hope

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello.  
> Happy New Year.  
> You get some Scott POV in this chapter.  
> Enjoy.

2pm.

It was about 2pm.

She had realised that one of the men who brought her meals wore a watch on his right wrist. He did not come every day but when he was on “duty” he always came at midday and then again at 2pm to bring her the bucket. The figure across the room didn’t seem to receive these privileges, although she wasn’t entirely sure what it was she was looking at under the thick sheets. Whatever it was, it was always covered head to toe. She had tried to talk to whoever it was several times during the first few days; did they know where they were or why they had been taken? Who was it that had them locked up in this dump? Did they know how to get out? She never received an answer. The most she got was mumbled nonsense and grunts. She soon abandoned hope of relying on her roommate as an ally.

She twisted her back against the wall, trying to get some blood back into her buttocks. It was painful sitting for so long. Her arms were bent backwards, her legs either straight or bent at the knee, switching every half hour or so to keep the blood moving. The chains that held her to the wall burnt her skin when she tried to pull at them and she waited with anxious anticipation for the infrequent times when they let her stand and freely move around the room. It hadn’t happened since her friend had been brought in. Maybe they didn’t want her to go near them, to find out who it was. She wasn’t too sure she wanted to know either. She was beginning to wonder if whoever it was were even human.

About an hour after her bucket had been taken away, one of the women slipped in, greeting her with a loud smile. She hated this one the most. She was full of fake smiles and loved the sound of her own voice. The woman’s attempts to rile her up were pointless but she never got the message and prattled on and on. The woman wanted to break her by taunting her endlessly. Today was no different. She walked in and crouched down in front of her.

‘Afternoon, sweetie.’ she said with a voice laced with acid. ‘You doing ok? Those chains hurting you?’ She pulled at the metal, scraping the links against her already swollen flesh.

‘Fuck you!’

‘Now, now…is that any way to talk to someone who’s just trying to help?’ She grinned like a mad woman and stroked a small, well-manicured hand down her cheek. ‘I’ve been talking to someone for you. Someone who’s very worried about you. He’s so worried about where you are and what you’re doing that he won’t bloody shut up!’ Her voice and anger escalated as she spoke and she pushed up from the floor, pacing to the other side of the room, kicking the other figure in frustration. ‘Your poor daddy wants to know what you’re doing all the god _damn_ time and it’s starting to piss me off.’ The woman sighed and rubbed her face. ‘But I can’t let him down now, can I? He wants to know his precious baby girl is safe and sound.’

The woman held a phone out in front of her, waving it teasingly, just out of reach. She felt her heart drop in her chest as she recognised it immediately. They’d been using her phone to message her dad all this time. He had no idea she was missing. Her eyes began to sting with tears but she quickly pulled herself together. She was not going to fall apart.

She watched as the woman laughed, typing out what she assumed was another fake message of reassurance, preventing anyone from finding out she was missing. She felt her frustration bubble up and her eyes burnt with rage. She wanted to slash the mocking grin off the woman’s face. Her instincts kicked in and she lunged forward, slamming into the woman’s side with her foot. The phone flew from her hands and smashed against the concrete wall. It fell to the floor, the back of the phone, along with its battery, lying separate from the screen. The woman screamed in anger and slapped her across the face. With her body weak from minimal sustenance and sitting in such a cramped position for endless hours, she fell back easily, all her energy wasted on her futile attack.

As the woman gathered up the broken phone and marched from the room, slamming the door shut behind her and bolting it with enough force to shake the metal frame, a thought occurred to her. With her phone broken there was no way for them to message her father with false reassurance. Without that phone he would become suspicious in only a few days. She prayed that he would know something was wrong.

The figure across the room shifted slightly but gave no sound. She still had no idea who she was sharing her nightmare with but she hoped whatever had happened to them wasn’t going to happen to her before her father went to the police.

xxx

Saturday, 22nd February

Despite Derek’s worries that his attempts to help Stiles had actually made his situation even more complicated, he couldn’t resist giving in to Stiles’ needs. Only two days after their “playdate” at the pool, which had ended with a spectacular blow job by the edge of the water, Stiles had come over to Derek’s loft and Derek hadn’t the heart, nor the willpower, to turn him away. On this occasion, Derek had come home from food shopping to find Stiles sat outside his apartment. He’d seen his car outside the building and had hurried up the stairs to meet the boy although he schooled his expression into one of indifference as he reached his floor. He didn’t want to give Stiles the impression that he was starting to care or anything.

Once Derek had unlocked the door and put the bags of food down, Stiles was on him. As many times before, they made their way upstairs, limbs and tongues tangled. He was on Derek like a limpet, their lips never parting as Derek tried to manoeuvre them to the bedroom. Stiles didn't seem able to wait as he redirected them to the living room and they toppled over onto the sofa. Stiles pawed at his clothes, tugging the t shirt over his head and proceeded to kiss at his chest. Derek held Stiles' chin, forcing their lips back together. It was messy and lacked grace but neither of them cared. They were too wrapped up in each other to worry. Derek began to undo Stiles' jeans, pulling them away. He was wearing tight, black briefs and Derek's mouth watered at the sight. He ripped them off and, without hesitation, pushed his lips over Stiles' erect member. As he worked on Stiles, pressing him to new highs of arousal, he couldn’t keep his conscience at bay. He was plagued by reminders of his promise to himself to steer Stiles back in the direction of something productive, to help him conquer his fears. He pulled away, leaving Stiles crying out in disappointment.

'You know, sex doesn't solve all our problems, Stiles.'

'Yeah it does. It always makes things better. Come on, you've just got too much cum and not enough brain power.’ Stiles gave him a wicked grin. ‘If we fuck you'll be able to think more clearly. It always works for me.’

Derek sighed and tried a new tactic.

'We haven't got time.'

‘Why?’

‘I’m planning on visiting Allison today.’

That was enough to kill the mood.

‘Oh…’

It was the truth. Derek wasn’t trying to manipulate Stiles into seeing her but he thought it wouldn’t hurt to remind Stiles that the option to jump head first into solving his problems was right there. But the despondence on Stiles’ face made Derek regret his words. He bent back over Stiles’ groin but the boy pushed him gently away and made Derek swap places with him.

'Just a blow job then.' Derek said, giving in. ‘Make it quick.’

'It always is with you.' Stiles said with a wink, forgetting or ignoring their awkward moment, as he got to his knees in front of Derek's crotch. Derek growled in irritation and, as Stiles began to pleasure him with his mouth, he tried not to moan, not wanting to give Stiles the satisfaction. But the pleasure became too intense and Derek's throat tightened until a guttural cry escaped from his lips. Stiles lapped at his dick, sucking and swirling his tongue around it. He pulled Derek further into his mouth until the tip hit the back of Stiles throat. Stiles' mouth made the most delicious sounds; wet and almost deafening to Derek's sensitive wolf ears. Derek looked down at Stiles' wet mouth to see the boy looking up at him with round, excited eyes. And soon after that it became too much for Derek to handle. He pushed Stiles away from him and leant down to pick him up in one strong swoop. He turned and threw Stiles down on the sofa. He bounced a little on the cushions, mouth cracking into a brilliant smile as he realised what Derek wanted. Their clothes were gone in moments and Derek loomed over Stiles' slim body, pushing his legs up into the air. He dipped his head down to Stiles' butt cheeks and licked all the way from back to front, stopping at the base of Stiles' dick. He repeated the action twice more before stopping to push his tongue against Stiles' pink pucker. He forced it inside of Stiles, hand creeping up his body to put his fingers in Stiles wet mouth. Stiles knew what he wanted and began sucking them frantically, lathering them in saliva. When they were suitably wet and Stiles' opening was twitching with expectation, Derek pressed his fingers inside. Stiles gasped and bucked his hips. His hands were buried in Derek's hair.

Derek knew his resolve had crumbled into dust and he would later regret giving in so easily. But as he took Stiles right there on his sofa, all care and concerns gone, he knew something was changing. Stiles was igniting something in him he hadn’t felt in years. Something more terrifying than hunters or monsters.

xxx

Saturday, 22nd February

‘But apart from that, it was a pretty good few days. Oh, but I did eat a questionable corndog on the way home yesterday. Kira and I stopped by this street food vendor thing and I’m starting to wonder if the meat might have actually been dog!’ Scott laughed, hand squeezing Allison’s arm gently. He stopped laughing when he thought of Kira again. He felt a little awkward telling Allison about his dates with his new girlfriend. He had no reason to – he and Allison were no longer dating – but her lifeless body gave an air of vulnerability that Scott had never seen in her. He was afraid to even breathe too heavily while at her bedside. ‘I’m sorry it’s taken me a couple days longer than normal to visit. I’ve been getting behind on school work. Stiles and I would usually meet a few times a week to study but…I don’t blame him or anything,’ he added quickly. ‘I know he has a lot on his mind right now but…’ Scott ran a hand over his face. ‘I guess I just miss my friend. It’s hard enough being without you. I don’t want to lose him too.’ He looked around the room in thought, glancing over at Chris who stood watching the scene through the window into Allison’s room. Scott gave a small smile, met with a curt nod. ‘Your dad is doing really well. He’s so strong. He says he knows you can pull through. You’re a fighter.’ Scott slipped his hand into hers and smiled weakly. He wished he could have the same faith. ‘I see Lydia has been looking after you.’ He lifted her pale, delicate hand where the fingernails were painted with a new, glossy red varnish. The colour reminded him of the blood pouring from Allison’s stomach, the flesh cut deep. Bile rose in his mouth and he swallowed the bitter taste away. ‘Isaac’s ok. He’s been really distant though. I only really see him in class actually. He’s hardly ever at home. My mom worries about him but she’s so busy at work, there isn’t much she can do other hand continued to give him somewhere to live. I wish he’d come see you more often but I think he’s having similar problems to Stiles. I just don’t think they can face seeing you like this. I mean you look great! You’re so beautiful, but…’ Scott coughed to try and ease the sudden tightness in his throat. He looked at his watch. It was almost dinner time. He’d been sat with her for over an hour already. ‘Your dad looks like he’s eager to get back in here. I’ll leave you two alone.’ Scott stood and bent over her still form, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. Chris was at the door before Scott could open it to leave.

‘Everything ok?’

‘Yeah. Just talking her ear off.’ Scott smiled. Chris didn’t return it. He was already making his way back to his seat by the bed. ‘I’ll see you soon.’ Scott waved a goodbye and stepped out of the room, shutting the door quietly behind him.

He pulled on his jacket as he walked down the corridor towards the double doors. Through them he could see the metal doors of the elevator sliding open and someone stepping out. It only took Scott a second to recognise who it was and Derek only a few more to stop dead in front of him.

‘Derek?’

Derek eyed him for a second, his face showing no sign of surprise at seeing Scott. But Scott could sense it in the air.

‘Scott…you don’t usually visit on Saturdays.’

‘Err…no, I don’t…’ He turned to watch Derek walk around him, stopping outside Allison’s room. He hurried back to join him. ‘What are you doing here?’

‘Visiting.’

‘Allison?’

Derek made a sardonic show of checking the name of the patient that hung on the door.

‘Yup.’

‘But you never visit.’ Scott exclaimed, ignoring Derek’s sarcasm.

‘Don’t I?’

‘Umm…’ Scott was taken aback by Derek’s presence and blasé attitude he brought with him. ‘Ok, so how often do you visit then?’

Derek shrugged.

‘At least once a week.’

‘I see.’ Scott turned to watch Allison through the window as Derek was. ‘You wanna go in?’ Derek shook his head. ‘Ok.’ They stood in silence for a while until Scott realised that Derek wasn’t in the mood for talking. He also needed to get home for dinner. ‘I’m gonna head off then.’ Derek nodded once. Scott made to leave but a thought stopped him. ‘Hey, have you heard from Isaac lately? He’s been kinda distant recently and I know you and him are friends…it’s just, we haven’t all been spending time together since after the Nogitsune. We’ve all gotten back into the swing of normal life apart from Isaac…and Stiles for that matter. Did you know he still hasn’t been to see Allison once? I don’t know what’s wrong with him. He hardly tells me anything anymore-’

‘You were talking about Isaac?’ Derek cut in.

‘Oh, umm, yeah. I wondered if he’d come to you at all? He seems to spend most of his time alone these days and I’m worried about him.’

‘He’s still living with you, isn’t he?’

‘Yeah, of course. We’d never kick him out but I don’t think he’s all that happy living with us anymore. I dunno why. Maybe living with me is just too much of a reminder that he might never get to be with Allison the way I was.’ Scott shrugged. ‘I’m just concerned.’

Derek crossed his arms and furrowed his brown. His stance was broad and dominated the wide corridor. The scene was a little odd; the towering, brooding werewolf watching over the tiny, frail human.

‘I haven’t seen him in a while. I’ll text him.’

Scott nodded.

‘Thanks. Hopefully you can help give him some closure or something. I just wish I knew what to do about Stiles.’

Derek shifted his stance but never took his eyes off Allison through the glass.

‘Didn’t you need to go?’

‘Huh? Oh, yeah! I’ve got to get home. Thanks, Derek. I’ll see you around. Let me know when you’ve spoken to Isaac.’

‘Will do.’

Scott felt a small sense of relief knowing that Derek was willing to help. As he left the hospital and climbed onto his motorbike, he wished Derek and Stiles were closer so Derek might be able to lessen Stiles’ load too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The more comments you leave the sooner I'll update ;)  
> Coming up;  
> Derek and Stiles' newfound domestic bliss is interrupted when someone sees something they shouldn't and Stiles worries over his growing feelings.


	25. Catching

Sunday, 23rd February

Stiles lay on the bed, legs crossed in the air, swaying a little as he tossed popcorn into his mouth. Derek sat next to him, back against the wall, arms crossed. The film was mildly entertaining to Derek although Stiles seemed riveted and his reactions to the images on the screen provided Derek with most of his entertainment that night. In a particularly long and seemingly pointless action scene, Derek let his eyes wander to Stiles round rear which was in clear view. He was wearing a pair of sweats and a t-shirt, making for easy access to his soft, pale skin. Derek ran a hand over the round buttocks and gave them a squeeze. He was always pleasantly surprised by the plump firmness of Stiles’ backside and it often had him drooling in his sleep. He pulled at the waist band with one hand, wondering when the boy might notice the intrusion in his underwear. It wasn’t until Derek was rubbing the pad of his thumb against his pucker that Stiles reacted, bucking his hips and looking over his shoulder.

What ensued had very little to do with the film and went completely against Derek’s resolve to resist his urges. When Stiles had turned up at his door with a DVD in hand, Derek had told himself the evening would consist of nothing more than two friends – were they friends? – watching a film. He’d managed almost half the film before the casually rumpled look of Stiles’ attire became too much to bare. By the time they finished it was well past dinner and they were both starving. Stiles offered to cook and Derek was intrigued as to his kitchen skills; if that cake were anything to go by, Stiles was a decent chef. Stiles ordered Derek to stay in bed while he disappeared out into the kitchen. Derek read his book while he waited but only half an hour later Stiles reappeared with two large pizza boxes. Derek let out a barking laugh.

'You hungry?' Stiles asked with a wagging eyebrow, climbing onto the bed. He put the boxes down and straddled Derek's lap. He opened one box and took out a large slice of greasy pizza, taking a bite and kissing Derek messily. Derek kissed back, his hands on Stiles’ waist, stroking the smooth skin of his stomach. Stiles pulled away and offered Derek the pizza. He took a bite, approving. Stiles kissed him again. 'Mmmm, I love your mouth.' Stiles moaned.

'That's just because there's pizza in it.' Derek said with a grin.

When the pizza was almost all gone and after another tumble in the sheets among the crumbs, they both lay sated and tired. Stiles had his head on Derek's chest. The werewolf had his fingers in Stiles' hair, playing with the soft strands.

'We should clean up this mess.' Derek said lazily, making no move to do so.

'Mmm, yeah we should...or...' Stiles sat up and turned to sit across Derek's chest. 'We could just stay here forever.' Derek hummed contentedly, as if considering the option. He then grabbed at Stiles and pulled him close, kissing him deeply, hands holding his neck firmly. Stiles laughed against his lips. 'Is that your answer?' Derek pushed Stiles away, hand on the teen's mouth. ‘Enough. I need some water.’

Derek moved to get out of bed but Stiles forced him back down.

‘Don’t you go anywhere, I’m not done with you yet.’

‘Oh really?’ Derek asked sarcastically.

‘Yeah. I’ll get the water,’ he leant forward and kissed him again. ‘and when I get back,’ another kiss. ‘you better be ready.’ He finished in a whisper against Derek’s lips.

‘Mmm...ok.’

xxx

Stiles stood from the bed and walk to the door, looking back at Derek, biting his lip at the thought of yet another round. He was sure he wouldn’t be able to take much more but couldn’t resist the beauty of Derek’s naked body. He walked out into the kitchen, grabbing his underwear on his way. He slipped them on, hopping on one leg over to the counter. Once he’d gotten both legs through, he moved to the fridge and opened it in search of bottled water. He hummed when he found the fridge void of bottles and shut the door. He opened the cupboard on the left but found none their either. He turned to the island in the middle of the kitchen and began to search in the cupboard beneath but had little luck there as well. Sighing, he stood and smacked a hand on his brow. There was a new pack of bottled water in the centre of the island counter. For someone who was interested in becoming a detective, he could be pretty unobservant. He laughed to himself, shaking his head as he pulled two bottles out from the plastic wrap and juggled them in his hands. He turned to walk back to the bedroom when movement across the open plan apartment caught his eye. His heart stopped, hands going so numb he was sure he’d drop the bottles.

‘I-Isaac?’

Isaac stood by the sofa, his eyes wide in surprise. Stiles was suddenly very aware of how naked he was but didn’t know what to do. He wasn’t sure what Isaac would deduce from seeing Stiles in his underwear in the middle of Derek’s loft and he didn’t want to make it worse by hurrying back into Derek’s bedroom. Isaac seemed equally at a loss for what to do as he stood in silence, neither of them moving. Stiles’ mind whirled. He knew he had to do something.

However, he didn’t get a chance as a pair of strong hands wrapped around his waist and picked him up, lips coming down to place a wet kiss on his neck.

‘What’s taking you so long?’ Derek put Stiles back down, his chin coming to rest on Stiles’ shoulder from behind. ‘Come back to bed.’ Derek must have noticed the stiffness in Stiles’ stance as he looked up. And that’s when he, too, spotted Isaac. ‘Shit.’

xxx

Derek hurriedly pulled on his clothes, Stiles sat on the edge of the bed in shock.

‘What the fuck just happened?’

‘I gotta get out there and explain before he leaves and starts telling everyone about this.’ Derek said, more to himself than Stiles as he yanked a t shirt over his head.

Stiles stood up and faced Derek who was looking around for his shoes in case he needed to chase after the boy. He’d told Isaac to stay put and had dragged Stiles back into the bedroom. He couldn’t believe how stupid he’d been. He was becoming careless, Stiles proving a greater distraction than he could handle.

‘Why is he even here?’ Stiles hissed. ‘And how did he get in?!’

‘I gave him a key.’

‘A key?! You never gave me a key!’

‘Well you don’t live here, do you?’

‘What, and he does?’

‘Yes.’

‘Since when?!’

‘Since he needed somewhere to stay. I only invited him to move in yesterday and we’ve already fucked it up.’

‘We?! Excuse me but had I known he was living here I wouldn’t have gone prancing around the kitchen in my underwear!’ Stiles’ voice grew louder.

‘Look, he needed some help, someone to talk to and I offered to spend some time with him.’

‘Time with him as in the same kind that you spend with me?’ The way Stiles looked at him expectantly, disbelief and anger on his face, Derek felt as though he’d been caught cheating on a partner. That was definitely not what this was. They weren’t “together” or anything. Were they? Derek didn’t have time to worry about that.

‘What? Of course not. He wasn’t happy living at Scott’s. Scott asked me to talk to Isaac and I did. He needed somewhere to stay where he wouldn’t be constantly reminded of what happened to Allison. So I invited him to move back in.’

‘Where’s he sleeping?’ Stiles asked sceptically, as though he still didn’t believe Derek was telling the truth about the kind of “help” he was providing Isaac.

‘The sofa bed. I’m kind of surprised you didn’t notice it yourself.’

In fairness to Stiles, once they had made it to the loft they had headed straight to the bedroom and hardly left the sheets.

Stiles seemed to come to his senses and nodded.

‘Sorry. I’m just not exactly ecstatic about Isaac finding out about us. Especially like this?’

‘And you think I am? Jesus, if anyone found out about this I could go to jail. You’re a minor, Stiles.’

‘I know that.’ Stiles spat. ‘Just go out there and make sure he isn’t going to tell anyone.’

‘That’s what I’m trying to do.’ Derek huffed and left the room, shutting the door behind him but not before hissing at Stiles to put his clothes on. Derek was relieved to find Isaac still home. He was sat at the breakfast bar with what was either an amused or embarrassed smile on his face. ‘Sorry about that. Umm…’

‘It’s cool.’ Isaac looked up as Derek sat down opposite him. ‘Not what I was expecting but it’s fine.’ His lips twitched. It was amusement. Derek fought the heat out of his cheeks.

‘Just so you know, Stiles and I…we’re not a “thing”.’

‘A thing?’

‘Yeah. I mean, no. We’re not together.’

‘You look pretty together to me.’ The amused smile was back again.

‘Oi.’ Derek clouted Isaac on the back of the head, reminding him who was boss. ‘Less attitude. Whatever I do in my free time is none of your business.’

‘Or who you do.’ Isaac shot in.

Derek ignored his snarky remark.

‘But for your information, Stiles came to me for advice and-’

‘You know that’s not what I was looking for when I asked if I could stay here.’ Isaac offered cautiously.

‘I know that! God, does everyone think I just like fucking teenagers?’

‘Well, no. But you are so you might want to be careful-’

‘Yes, Isaac. Thank you.’ Derek snapped. ‘I know the risks and I know what could happen if anyone found out but there isn’t any reason for that to happen. We’re not a couple so we’re not going to be seen together in public or anything. And even if we were, he’ll be eighteen in a couple of months.’

Isaac nodded along to Derek’s justification of his actions.

‘But until then, he’s still a minor and you’re committing a federal offence by sleeping with him. Or is it a felony? I can’t remember which.’ Isaac said smugly.

‘Did you want to stay here or not?’ Isaac pulled back with an awkward smile. ‘Yeah, I thought as much.’

Just then, Stiles came out the bedroom, clothes back on. He came to stand next to Derek, hands fiddling absently.

‘Nice to see you both with your clothes on.’ Isaac smirked. Stiles scoffed and crossed his arms.

‘Before you two start getting catty,’ Derek knew they weren’t exactly fond of one another. ‘Isaac, I just want to make sure you’re not going to say anything about this to anyone?’

‘It’s none of my business. If you wanna sleep with Stiles, that’s your choice. Although, aren’t you kind of scraping the barrel?’

‘Oh, fuck you-!’

‘For god’s sake, shut it, both of you. You’re like two yapping dogs.’ Derek looked between them with irritation. They were winding each other up for the sake of it. ‘Stiles, why don’t you head home now?’

‘Me? Why should I go? I was here first.’

‘Don’t be petty.’

‘Yeah, you don’t want your new boyfriend to think you’re petty now do you, Stiles?’

‘Isaac! Shut up.’ Derek attempted to interject but was cut off by Stiles.

‘Why don’t you go wrap yourself up in that bloody scarf of yours and tie it across your mouth? At least it’s finally the right time of the bloody year!’

Stiles stormed back into the bedroom and moments later came back out with his jacket and other belongings and fled the apartment, scowling. He didn’t give Derek a second look. The door slammed shut and the sound of Stiles’ angry footsteps echoed down the stairs.

‘Wow.’ Isaac breathed. ‘He’s a keeper.’

‘Shut up, Isaac.’

xxx

Stiles was furious. At himself. He felt like a child storming out of Derek’s loft like that. He was acting like a spoilt brat and he knew it. For some reason the thought of Derek inviting Isaac into his home, giving him a key and sharing his space with him, made Stiles’ blood boil. And he knew what that was; jealousy. The green eyed monster had made a surprise visit and Stiles was not happy about it. He had never imagined he would be jealous of anyone Derek spent time with. He used to hate the man. But now he craved his company. Over the many weeks they had been sleeping together, Stiles had developed a subconscious leash on Derek and he’d begun to think of him as his own. He knew it was ridiculous. There was nothing romantic between them at all. Stiles needed Derek for physical relief, not love. Right? Stiles scoffed at the thought as he reached his house, parking the car on the drive.

He was in such a foul mood he didn’t notice his father sat watching TV and marched up the stairs, throwing his bag down onto the bed, followed by himself. He let out a frustrated scream into the pillow and thumped his fists into the sheets.

‘You alright there, kiddo?’

Stiles jumped at the sound of his dad’s voice.

‘You scarred me.’ he said breathily, turning around to face his father in the open doorway. ‘I didn’t know you were home.’

‘No, you were too busy rampaging through my house like a hurricane. Everything ok?’

Stiles sighed and scrubbed his face as he sat teddy bear style on the duvet. His dad came to sit next to him.

‘Yeah…I dunno.’

‘Is this about Allison?’

For once, it wasn’t and Stiles wasn’t sure how he felt about that. While he was glad not to be thinking about his guilt every second of the day, at least with Allison he could avoid the problem. With Derek, the problem was exactly the one thing Stiles couldn’t avoid, no matter how hard he tried.

‘Not exactly.’ His dad raised a brow. ‘Ok, not at all.’

‘What’s up?’

Stiles wasn’t sure what to say. Did he tell his father he’d been sleeping with a much older man to help him forget about the pain he’d caused not only his friends but the whole town and that he might possibly, but not definitely, be developing certain feelings towards him?

No.

No way.

He tried his best to smile reassuringly at his father. He didn’t buy it.

‘Ok, ok. I might possibly… _like_ someone.’

His dad’s face lit up.

‘Oh! Ok. Good. I was worried it was something more serious.’

It was serious to Stiles. To Stiles, it was a mess. It was not what he had intended and not what he wanted anyone to know about. But he needed to talk things through. His reaction to Derek asking Isaac to move back in was completely irrational, especially for the arrangement they had.

‘It’s not a big deal.’ Stiles lied. ‘I just don’t know whether it’s a good idea for me to like this person at all.’

‘Why? Is there something wrong with them?’

Something wrong? With Derek? That would be a big yes. Not only was he too old for Stiles, he was also a werewolf and prone to bad moods, had a quick temper and irritatingly judging eyebrows. He thought Stiles was an idiot and treated him as such more often than not. There was little about Derek that Stiles could possibly find attractive. Apart from his hot body, generosity, intelligence and kindness. But who wanted those things in a guy anyway?

These thoughts played through Stiles’ mind as his father waited for a response. Stiles scoffed to himself to which his dad sighed.

‘Am I going to get an answer or are you just going to keep pulling strange faces?’

‘Oh, sorry. No, there isn’t anything wrong with them, per se, but I don’t know if the two of us are well suited.’

‘Is this about Lydia?’

‘What? No. No, I think that ship has sailed and it has crashed into a craggy rock somewhere in the pacific.  This is someone else. Someone I probably shouldn’t have feelings for. Not that I do. I don’t know yet. Eugh.’ Stiles rubbed at his face again, tiredly.

‘Maybe you should sleep on it. Think about how you feel again in the morning when you have a clear head.’

Stiles nodded. He couldn’t believe he was discussing the possibility of having feelings for Derek Hale with his father. Not that his father knew that but that was beside the point.

The Sheriff wished Stiles a goodnight and left the room. Stiles showered and changed into his pyjamas before climbing into bed. Glancing at the clock, he realised how late it actually was. He’d spent his entire evening with Derek and they’d spent it well. Stiles blushed as he recalled their evening activities. He prayed the warm swelling in his chest was heart burn from the pizza and not something else.

That night, Stiles’ nightmares of the Nogitsune were kept at bay as they usually were after seeing Derek but his sleep was not dreamless. Instead, his mind was plagued by images of Derek and Isaac, the most vivid of which would haunt him when he awoke the following morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Coming up:  
> Derek knows it's time to talk about their relationship and it goes off with a "bang".


	26. Bang Bang

Wednesday, 26th February

Stiles chewed his lip as he read the message several times.

**Derek:** _I’m picking you up after school._

It wasn’t a question or an offer; according to Derek, it was happening. Stiles wasn’t so sure.

They hadn’t spoken since Sunday evening when Stiles left Derek’s apartment in a rage. They hadn’t texted at all and Stiles was glad of the time off. He needed to figure things out. Although it wasn’t easy to clear his mind when, at school, every turn was met with Isaac’s amused gazed. Stiles was trying not to be jealous but it was difficult knowing that Isaac got to live with Derek and see him every day. He knew it was stupid and it made him wonder what exactly he was feeling towards the man. Maybe he’d gotten in too deep without even realising it.

Lacrosse practice on Monday had been particularly difficult when Isaac made it his mission to tackle Stiles at every possible moment, making comments in his ear to rile him up. Scott seemed to notice and eyed them both cautiously. It had put Stiles off his game and he’d played terribly.

Stiles had been tempted to call Derek and apologise on the Tuesday but didn’t know what that might lead to. He needed to figure out what he wanted before he drove right back into sleeping with him again.

It was during lunch when he received Derek’s message and he was caught off guard by it. He toyed with the idea of leaving school early to avoid seeing him but knew that not only would that result in missing class and getting detention but it also was avoiding dealing with the situation and he’d done a little too much of that recently. So, when the final class of the day ended, Stiles grabbed his books from his locker and walked out to the front of the school. He hoped Derek would be quick because he didn’t want any attention from being seen getting into Derek Hale’s car. But when he got outside, he couldn’t see him anywhere. His car was nowhere in the parking lot.

His phone buzzed in his pocket.

**Derek:** _Come to your car._

Stiles frowned and looked over to his blue jeep where he could just about see Derek sat behind the wheel.

‘What the…’ Stiles walked through the cars to his jeep, praying that Derek hadn’t hurt his baby while breaking the locks. When he got to the jeep, he opened the passenger door and climbed in. ‘When you said you were picking me up, I kinda thought you meant in your car.’

‘I didn’t think you’d want to draw attention.’ Derek held out his hand for the keys and Stiles handed them over. Derek started the engine and pulled out of the car park.

‘Where are you taking me?’

‘I thought we needed to talk.’

Stiles swallowed thickly.

‘About what?’

Derek shot him a look from the corner of his eyes and said nothing. It seemed Derek had been thinking the same thing as Stiles; something had changed between them.

Derek drove the car away from the centre of town and towards the wooded area on the edge of Beacon Hills. Stiles felt a little on edge.

When they were driving past the Beacon Hills line, Derek made a left turn up a dirt track that took them into the woods. There was a small area where the foliage had been cut away to create a parking area for those who came to walk their dogs. A dog waste bin had been put up too and Stiles wondered how unpleasant it was for Derek with his enhanced sense of smell.

They climbed out of the jeep and Stiles followed Derek along a well walked path through the wood. Stiles struggled to keep up with Derek’s fast pace. Derek began to slow down when they’d been walking for about ten minutes and another open space appeared before them. Stiles began to recognise where they were.

‘I thought we needed some space, to talk in private.’

‘Are we…are we near your house?’

Derek looked around them.

‘It’s not far.’

‘Is this where we first met?’

Derek shrugged.

It was. Stiles remembered it vividly. He’d been afraid when he’d first seen him. He’d told them to leave the area because it was private property. Stiles smiled at the memory. Derek still scared Stiles but now for an entirely different reason.

Stiles sat down on a log that lay on its side, recently fallen it seemed. Derek remained standing. He looked a little put out, hands clasping at thin air by his sides. Stiles hadn’t often seen Derek at a loss for words. He felt sorry for him as he tried to say something multiple times.

‘I-’ He coughed. ‘I know you’ve needed some help recently. And I wanted to help you. I still do.’

Stiles watched Derek pace around the small space of the clearing. Stiles fidgeted where he sat.

‘Derek, you don’t need-’

‘No, I need to say something.’ Stiles clamped his mouth shut and nodded. Derek continued slowly. ‘I think we need to re-evaluate what it is we’re doing here.’

‘Well, you drove me into the middle of a forest and now I’m getting cold, sat on a log.’

Derek scowled and sighed.

‘Please, Stiles. Can you resist being yourself for a second?’

Stiles couldn’t help smirking.

‘Sorry.’

Derek sat down opposite Stiles on an old tree stump, hands clasped between his knees.

‘With women, I know what I’m doing. I know what they want from me.’

‘Really? You can confidently say you “know” women?’

Every girlfriend Stiles knew Derek had had over the years had either died, tried to kill him or tried to kill him and then died. He didn’t exactly have a good track record.

‘Ok, fine. Maybe I’m not the most experienced with successful relationships. But I understand what makes women tick. But with you…I can’t tell if I’m helping you or making things worse. And after what happened on Sunday, I don’t know what it is you want from me.’

Stiles bit at his lip. He was trying to figure out the same thing. What did he want from Derek? And if he did want something more from him, would Derek feel the same way?

‘Derek, I don’t…I don’t expect anything from you. I wanted someone to take my mind off of things and you were there for me. That’s all I needed.’

‘I know but I can’t help feeling like I’m making it worse. Instead of helping you face your problems, I’m letting you hide from them…in my bed.’

Stiles caught the slight smile on Derek’s lips. He smiled too and laughed. It was a rather strange situation they’d found themselves in. Derek laughed as well, his tight and nervous expression relaxing.

‘I’m sorry if I’ve made you feel that way. I never wanted to drag you into my problems.’

‘You didn’t. I offered to help. The only thing I’m worried about is how this if affecting you. The last time I saw you…things seemed to be changing.’

Stiles’ heart jumped, shocks of adrenaline pumping through his veins at the realisation that his next few words could change everything.

‘Umm, yeah…about that…’Stiles took a jagged breath, knees bobbing frantically. ‘The thing is…Derek, I… I think I might, possibly be…fallin-’ Stiles was cut off by a bang which made him jump. He looked around in shock, heart beat wild. ‘What was that?!’ He turned to Derek whose face had gone pale. ‘Derek?’ Derek met Stiles’ gaze and reached a hand around his back. When he brought his hand back around, Stiles saw it was covered in deep, red blood. Stiles stood, hands flying to his mouth. He hurried to Derek and pulled at his jacket and t shirt to reveal the open wound. ‘Oh my god! Derek!’

‘I’m fine.’ Derek hissed. He reached back around and felt at the wound which was already trying to heal. He used his thumb and forefinger to pull the bullet out, the sight of which made Stiles’ stomach turn.

‘Oh god! What are you doing?’

‘I need to see the bullet, to see if it’s silver.’

Stiles avoided watching as he got the bullet out and the wound fully healed. He looked around the lines of trees that surrounded them and shivered with the realisation that someone had been watching them.

‘D’you think they’re still out there?’

Derek grunted as he stood. He sniffed the air, eyes glowing as he tried to focus his werewolf senses.

‘I can’t tell. I can only smell solvent.’

‘Solvent? To hide their scent, you think?’ Stiles whispered.

‘Maybe. Let’s get out of here.’

Stiles nodded as Derek grabbed his hand and they set off at a run.

 

xxx

Everyone was in panic.

There was a cacophony of noise as everyone spoke over each other and their voices grew louder.

Derek stood back from the group as they filled Scott’s living room. Stiles had insisted on going straight to Scott’s house to tell him what had happened and also to have Melissa check him for injury. Derek reminded Stiles that he had healed completely but Stiles was paranoid and asked for Melissa’s opinion. She’d found nothing wrong with him.

Scott had been surprised to find them at his door but had ushered them in and called the others once Stiles had explained what happened.

‘I didn’t think the shootings had anything to do with us!’ Kira exclaimed.

‘Neither did I.’ Isaac said with a shrug. ‘None of us have been targeted until now.’

‘But what’s the point in using silver bullets if they actually are trying to kill werewolves?’ Lydia pondered.

‘That’s what I’ve been trying to figure out this whole time.’ Stiles said exasperatedly.

‘And?’

‘I’ve got nothing. I can’t figure it out.’

Derek rolled the bullet between his fingers in his jacket pocket. He hadn’t truly believed any of Stiles’ theories until now. He couldn’t see any reason why someone would be trying to hunt them and yet make no attempt to attack them or even use bullets that could kill werewolves. But now he wasn’t so sure.

‘Well, whoever these people are, they must have followed you.’ Danny said uncomfortably.

‘I guess so.’

‘That’s so creepy!’ Kira cried.

‘I knew we should have been more worried about this.’ Scott said with a frown. Derek could see he was kicking himself.

‘Wait, what were you and Stiles doing out in the woods together anyway?’ Lydia asked sceptically, turning to Derek. Everyone else seemed to have forgotten he was there at all and all eyes were suddenly on him.

Derek’s voice caught in his throat as he found he had no reply. He could see Isaac smirking at him across the room. Derek coughed.

‘We were…we were talking about…’

‘We were talking about Allison.’ Stiles cut in, gaze firmly held with Derek’s. ‘Derek and I were talking about Allison. He’s been helping me figure out how I feel…about what happened.’

The room fell silent.

‘Look, why we were there doesn’t matter.’ Derek regained control of his voice. ‘All we know is, I just got shot with a silver bullet and that whoever shot me was probably following us and knows who I am.’

‘Ok, so where do we go from here?’ Isaac asked with his arms folded. ‘That’s not exactly a lot of information.’

‘You must have heard something, Derek?’

Derek shook his head. He’d been too wrapped up in his thoughts and worrying about Stiles. His senses had been down.

‘I didn’t hear or see anything. But I did smell something. Some sort of solvent. I think whoever it was, they were trying to cover their scent.’

‘So that means they must know you’re a werewolf which must mean they’re hunters.’ Lydia stated logically.

‘But why have they been shooting random people then?’

Scott paced the living room floor.

‘And why didn’t they try to kill Derek? They could have done it right then.’

‘I can hardly believe they’re hunters who don’t know how to kill werewolves.’ Danny scoffed. ‘Right?’ Danny was still knew to this and Derek wondered why exactly he was there.

‘Well, either way, we’ve got to get to the police station.’ Stiles turned to Derek.

‘What? Why?’ Scott asked.

‘My dad has a deputy working on the case. If they find out about the shooting from someone else somehow, it’ll look pretty strange that we kept it a secret. We’ve got to tell him what happened.’

‘But Derek has no wound.’ Kira pointed out.

‘Just say the bullet missed. And change your clothes. Those need to go in the bin.’ Lydia said with distaste.

xxx

After going back to Derek’s loft to change, Stiles and Derek hurried to the Sheriff’s Station to report the shooting. When they got there, Stiles asked for Sanchez who appeared upon hearing his name.

‘Stiles! Good to see you. You ok?’ The deputy looked Derek up and down.

‘Not really. My friend, Derek, he was almost shot.’

‘Shot?’

‘With this.’ Derek handed over the bullet but Sanchez recoiled and hurried behind the front desk and came back with a plastic bag for collecting evidence. He held it open and Derek dropped the bullet in.

‘It’s another attack from our friend.’

‘Ok, come with me, sir.’ Sanchez said to Derek, beaconing him into the interview room. ‘Stiles, you too. I’ve got to follow protocol on this.’

Sanchez interviewed them both in the small interview room and their conversation was recorded. They explained what happened, leaving out the reason for their trip to the woods and the fact that Derek was a werewolf and that he actually got shot. And that they suspected that the person who shot him was a werewolf hunter, although seemingly not a very good one. Stiles wondered if they were actually helping Sanchez at all with their vague information.

Stiles also noted the way Derek’s eyes fell on Sanchez with aversion. He spoke in a clipped tone, answering the deputy curtly and Stiles was almost sure he heard the low rumble of a growl when Sanchez put his hand on Stiles shoulder when they were leaving the interview room.

‘It just seems so strange that this person would shoot people so randomly and not even to kill.’ Sanchez pondered once the interview had ended and they had both written their statements. ‘There has only been one death so far. And this time they didn’t even hit the target even though the shot was from such a close range.’

‘A close range? How can you tell?’ Stiles queried.

Sanchez looked a little caught off guard.

‘I’m sorry. I’m just brain storming here, really. I’m no expert but if you two were in the woods when Mr. Hale almost got shot, then I’m guessing it must have been from a short distance. Otherwise the trees must surely have gotten in the way.’

‘Oh, yeah I guess so.’

‘Then again, if this person isn’t a very skilled gunman, then a long distance shot like that is sure to miss. We’ll have to wait for the forensics team to look at the bullet. They might come back with some information for us.’

Sanchez thanked them for reporting the incident and tried to reassure them that the shooting was probably totally random. There were almost no other connections between any of the previous attacks so they had no reason to worry about a repeat. Derek and Stiles, of course, knew this was not necessarily the case. Stiles had wondered if Derek would mention the solvent but he didn’t. He wasn’t sure if it would complicate the case for Sanchez but as they were leaving the station he decided that the more information they could give him, the better. Sanchez took on the information and promised to put it in Stiles’ statement.

Standing outside the station, Stiles rocked on the balls of his feet. He wondered if Derek might be cold without his jacket but remembered that werewolves could regulate their heat. He was fine.

What wasn’t fine was the awkward silence between them.

‘So…’

‘Yep.’

‘I guess I better drive you home.’ Stiles offered a smile but Derek didn’t return it. He simply nodded and they got into Stiles’ jeep. When they arrived at Derek’s, the wolf got out, thanked Stiles, and disappeared into his building. Stiles drove home wondering where they stood now.

xxx

Henry wiped a clean cloth down the barrel of the gun, the smell of solvent thick in the air. He hated residue collecting on the metal. It made for easier upkeep if the weapons were frequently wiped and polished. He just wished Juliet would listen. She was a little too trigger happy and never thought about the after effects. She never thought about the clean-up. That was always left to everyone else. He sighed as he wrapped the gun in a thick felt bag and tucked it under his shirt. He’d need to clean the clothes when he got home. His knees were filthy with dirt from kneeling on the ground to gain stability. He’d made a clean shot, another thing his sister wasn’t so good at. It required patience, of which she had little. Had she been the one behind the gun, the operation might not have gone so well. They could have ended up with another dead body on their hands. She’d been punished for that one. It had been a simple procedure; flushing out the birds to catch the attention of the neighbourhood cats, so to speak. Henry smirked to himself. Drew had made sure she knew of her mistake. And learnt from it. As part of her punishment for screwing up because of her haste and impatience, she had been forced to stay at the hideout and take extra babysitting duty. She wasn’t happy about it. Not one bit.

After waiting until the wolf and the boy had fled the woods, Henry packed up his things, resealing the solvent tightly to avoid spills and made his way out of the trees. He was pleased. He’d successfully followed the two and made a clean shot, the solvent serving to hide his scent from the werewolf’s nose. As he’d watched “Derek”, as he seemed to be called, heal almost instantly from the gun shot, he added another wolf to the list. It was a slow process but a necessary one. They needed to know how many wolves he had protecting him. How large was the pack? They knew for certain that the boy, Stiles, was human. They didn’t need a bullet for that one. Had Derek turned out to be human and died from the gun shot, there may have been some complications but the confidence Henry had in himself was impeccable. He could tell. He could almost smell it on him. For a moment, he wondered if Derek might be the one they were looking for. He held power and strength beyond that of many beta and alpha werewolves he’d met in his time. But he was not the one they wanted. He was simply an obstacle they needed to overcome. But not yet. It was too soon. They needed him still. They needed all of them. To find the one they wanted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Coming up:  
> Some good news has Stiles' mind reeling.


	27. Cold

Friday 28th February

Derek had to admit, he was a little on edge. Having been shot at by God knows who, he found himself twitching, tossing his head from side to side at each small movement in his peripheral. He still wasn’t entirely convinced that it had been a hunter but he couldn’t deny it was possible. The fact that they didn’t kill him there and then could mean they had a reason to keep him alive. Perhaps they were simply toying with them, trying to set them all on edge. Derek knew he was being irrational and that there was no reason to be afraid until more information became available. For now, he needed to figure out what to do with Stiles. Their chat had been interrupted quite drastically and by the end of the night, Derek didn’t have the energy in him to deal with the situation. Stiles hadn’t messaged him over the last day or so and Derek knew he needed to speak with him face to face if they were ever going to get anything done. Derek decided to drive to Stiles’ house there and then. If he thought on it any longer he might change his mind.

During the short drive across town, Derek thought about how long it had been since he and Stiles had slept together. It was almost a week before which explained Derek’s discomfort. He was feeling on edge for more than one reason. But he knew he couldn’t make a move on Stiles when they had something important to discuss. He could control himself a little longer.

However, the moment Stiles answered the door and Derek saw his stupid face, Derek grabbed the collar of his open shirt and pulled Stiles to him. He forced his way through the threshold and turned them together so he could shut the door and shove Stiles up against it. Derek breathed in deeply at Stiles' neck, his blood sinking south at the smell that he'd begun to associate with such intense pleasure. But before Derek could go any further, Stiles put his hands up between them and gently push Derek away.

'Derek, I have company.' His voice was low and serious. He nodded briefly towards the living room. Derek looked over his shoulder and stepped back. Company? The Sheriff was home? He never usually came home so early on a weekday. Stiles must have sensed his thoughts. 'It's not my dad. It's Scott.'

Derek's eyes widened. If Scott were there he would no doubt be able to smell Derek, even from the front door. His wolf senses would surely sniff him out.

‘Should I go?’ Stiles shook his head. Something seemed wrong. ‘Are you ok?’

‘I’m fine. It’s actually good news.’ he replied although his expression suggested it was anything but. Stiles gulped. ‘It’s Allison. She woke up.’

xxx

‘And then her dad called me to say she woke up this afternoon. I still can’t believe it!’ Scott said with a massive smile. He looked relieved.

Derek was relieved too. He’d begun to doubt she would ever pull through. He just hoped Stiles might finally forgive himself now he knew she was going to be ok.

‘I’m glad.’ Derek offered. Scott grinned again.

‘I know! It’s amazing. I was actually going to come tell you and Isaac the news after I’d seen Stiles. What are you doing here?’

‘I was just checking to see if Stiles was ok after the shooting.’ Derek lied with ease.

Scott nodded and looked to Stiles.

‘Huh?’ He seemed distracted. ‘I’m fine.’ he said quickly. ‘And I’m happy about Allison. Will she be ok?’

‘The doctors say there might be some brain damage but she’s communicating normally and seems to understand where she is and what’s going on so if there is any damage, right now they think it could be physical. But we won’t know for a while.’

Scott didn’t stay long as he wanted to see Isaac and Lydia in person to tell them the good news. Derek offered him a lift but he had his motorbike and left with a promise to text Stiles later.

‘Well,’ Derek sighed tiredly after Scott had gone. ‘you must be pretty happy.’ Stiles nodded but his eyes held worry. ‘What’s up?’

‘Nothing. I’m glad she’s awake.’

‘You don’t look it.’

‘Well I am.’ Stiles snapped, his temper seemingly coming from nowhere.

Derek was losing his patience with Stiles. Now his mood swings were giving him whip lash.

‘Look, I came over here to finish our talk and find out what it is you want but I don’t think _you_ even know. You’ve been whining and complaining about how guilty you feel for what happened to Allison and how you’re too afraid to even visit her, and now that she’s awake you look even more miserable than ever. I don’t think any amount of sex or comfort from me is going to fix whatever problem it is that you’re having. I can’t do anything unless you explain to me what you want.’

Derek waited for Stiles to say something but he stood with his head down, not speaking a word. Derek didn’t want to waste his time. He made to leave.

‘Please don’t.’

His voice was small but loud enough to stop Derek in his tracks. He breathed in deeply and out through his nose, trying to control the irritation which buzzed in his head.

‘Why?’

‘I…’ Stiles shuffled somewhere behind him. ‘…need you.’

‘You need me?’

Derek turned to see Stiles nod with hesitation. He reached out for Derek’s arm and grasped it tightly. He then led Derek towards the stairs and up to his bedroom. Derek wasn’t about to give into any advances from Stiles and pulled against him, albeit with little effort. But when they got to his room, Stiles let go of Derek and stepped away from him. His eyes seemed to burn into Derek’s skin as he stared Derek in the eye. Derek shifted uncomfortably. He was about to speak when Stiles held up a hand.

‘Don’t. Please. I just need to…figure this out.’

‘By staring at me?’

‘By staring at you.’ Stiles repeated, stepping closer. ‘I need to figure out what it is I feel when I look at you.’

Derek couldn’t help but stand a little taller. He wouldn’t admit it aloud but Stiles’ opinion of him was becoming increasingly important to him.

Stiles looked his face over with sad, shining eyes. A small smile played at his relaxed lips. Breath ghosted over them as they parted. He took another step towards Derek, their chests almost touching.

‘Stiles…’

‘Just let me…’ His words were so gently Derek wasn’t even sure he heard them. Stiles raised his hands slowly, placing them on Derek’s face, holding him with a feather grip. He tilted his head back to reach Derek’s greater height and brought their lips together in the lightest of kisses. Derek held still as the feeling of Stiles’ lips on his tingled down his neck. He closed his eyes but Stiles was already backing away. It took Derek a few moments to release the breath he’d been holding.

Derek cleared his throat.

‘And?’

Stiles gave another glance over Derek’s face and moved to sit on the floor, leaning against his bed. He looked decidedly dejected.

'What's even happening?' Stiles asked with a hint of a tired laugh. 'What is this?'

Derek sat on the edge of the bed, picking at his nails absentmindedly, a front for his truly panicked temperament.

'I don't know.'

Stiles spread his long legs out in front of himself on the floor, hands laying limp in his lap.

'Should we stop?'

'Do you want to?' Derek’s voice most certainly did not crack at the end of his words.

Neither one of them wanted to answer that question.

'I wonder what Scott would think.' Stiles said airily.

It was something Derek, too, had wondered on several occasions. Would he feel betrayed by his best friend for abandoning him during a time of suffering to be with someone Stiles had once wished dead? Would he feel replaced? Derek had often wondered exactly how close the boys were. Their love for one another seemed to go deeper than best friends and sometimes even more than brothers. Stiles had even admitted to offering to make out with Scott on more than one occasion which Derek had pretended to smirk at but secretly questioned how genuine Stiles was in his offer.

'I don't like lying to him.' Derek replied gruffly, much to the surprise of Stiles who turned to look at him.

'Why?'

Derek sighed.

'As much as I don’t like to admit it, he's my alpha. He's like family.'

'Really? I didn't think you cared that much.'

'He's part of my pack, I have to care about him. About all of you.'

'Have to or want to?' Derek looked down at Stiles and held his gaze. He was sure Stiles knew the real answer already. 'We could tell him?' Stiles suggested.

'No.'

'Why not?'

'He's got too much to worry about with Allison coming home from the hospital.'

Stiles looked up at him with an ‘o’ at his lips. He looked back down to his hands.

'Are you...ashamed of-'

'No.' Derek said quickly.

'Good.’ Stiles nodded, as if comforting himself with Derek’s answer. ‘Because you shouldn't feel bad for seeking comfort in people. That's what I did with you. You help keep me grounded. Just because Allison is getting better doesn't mean I don't need you anymore. I still...I still need...'

Derek silenced Stiles' stutters with a hand on his shoulder. He pushed himself off the bed, onto the floor and sat thigh to thigh with him, letting the boy lean his head on his shoulder.

'I don't want this to end.' Stiles said softly.

Derek didn’t need to say anything for Stiles to know he felt the same way. There was no point lying to himself. He didn’t quite understand his feelings for Stiles yet but he was certainly enjoying his company and the attraction between them was palpable.

‘At risk of sounding cliché, it doesn’t have to end.’ Derek brushed his hand across his jeans, removing invisible dirt. ‘I uh, I like spending time with you. I guess you could say I’ve got a lot of my own problems to deal with and I guess I might like trying to deal with them…with you.’

Derek avoided eye contact but he could tell Stiles was looking at him. He almost jumped when Stiles slid his own hand along Derek’s thigh. Derek broke his firm gaze which was fixed on the wall ahead of him and looked to Stiles who had a mesmerised look in his eyes. He turned onto his knees and crawled onto Derek’s lap, hands moving to Derek’s face once more. He held him gently and looked into his eyes. Derek felt his chest tighten and his body go cold.

_‘Derek…please…’ The look in her eyes was like nothing he had seen before. He felt his skin go cold with a shiver of something far beyond lust or passion. ‘Please…I love you.’_

_Derek couldn’t breathe. He felt as though he could burst into tears at any moment from the sheer joy that butterflied through his body. He held her gaze, her eyes so beautiful, full of life and naive hope. He had never loved someone this way and, as he kissed her, he wasn’t sure he would ever again._

Stiles stroked his hand down Derek’s cheek. His fingers were shaking slightly but Derek could hear that his heartbeat was steady and sure. This wasn’t the same as every other time Stiles had come on to him. This was something else, something not fuelled by lust.

‘Derek…please.’

Derek knew he couldn’t say no. And he didn’t want to.

Stiles kissed him just as softly as before and Derek’s hands came up to rest on Stiles’ lower back. Their lips moved slowly against one another, no need to rush this time. This was something new and they both wanted to explore every inch of it.

With Stiles in his lap, Derek thought he would be happy to stay there forever. Stiles’ weight on him was a comfort, grounding him. His hands wandered Stiles’ back, slipping under the soft material of his t shirt. The skin beneath was as silky as ever and he imagined the dark moles that littered his body beneath his touch. Stiles’ hands remained on Derek’s face and neck. He eventually slipped his fingers into Derek’s hair, pulling slightly. The sensation was overwhelming and Derek bucked up, his hands grasping Stiles’ backside and forcing himself up. He stood carefully, hoisting Stiles into the air. The boy wrapped his legs around his waist and allowed Derek to lower him down onto the bed. Everything seemed to move in slow motion as they enjoyed every languid movement and lingering kiss.

Derek held himself over Stiles, his palms down on the sheets either side of his head. He looked down at the boy whose eyes were half closed, lips wet and parted.

He was beautiful.

Derek kissed him delicately on the lips before moving his own lips down Stiles’ jawline to his exposed neck and collar bone. Stiles breathed softly and his eyes slid shut. Derek continued down, pushing the t shirt out of the way, revealing pale skin. He continued down until he was at Stiles’ navel. He nipped at the skin and kissed the same spot to sooth it. He drew back and watched as the white skin grew rosy pink. His tongue darted out and licked along the line of Stiles’ jeans. Derek heard Stiles’ breath hitch. The skin there was sensitive.

_‘Derek that tickles!’ she laughed melodically. The sound was like liquid gold to Derek and he kissed her soundly. She kissed back reverently, seemingly in awe of Derek even though Derek felt it should be the other way around; she was heaven sent._

_‘You’re beautiful. You know that, right?’_

_She laughed again and kissed him on the nose._

_‘You make me feel beautiful.’_

Derek pulled at Stiles’ jeans, dragging them over his legs and throwing them to the floor. His lips continued their journey now that he was free of obstacles. Once he’d made his way down to Stiles’ toes, stopping to kiss the inside of Stiles’ thigh, gripping at the firm, soft flesh, he nibbled at Stiles’ ankles. Stiles groaned quietly, twisting his body towards Derek. Derek sat back and pulled his own t shirt over his head. He placed a hand on Stiles’ hip and turned him onto his stomach. With Stiles t shirt bunched up at his shoulders, Derek had access to the smooth skin of Stiles’ back. He bent over the boy and kissed every inch of it. He rubbed along Stiles’ sides and he made his way back up to Stiles’ neck where he placed a final, lingering kiss at the nape of his neck.

When he was done, he lay down next to him. Stiles turned onto his side and looked at Derek with hazy eyes. Stiles smiled and reached a hand out to rest on Derek’s chest. Derek placed his hand over Stiles’ and stroked along his arm.

‘You ok?’

‘Yes.’ he whispered. Derek smiled too.

Stiles shuffled closer until his head was tucked in under Derek’s arm. Derek pulled him in, dipping his own head down to Stiles’ soft hair which tickled his nose. He could smell coconut shampoo.

‘I should go before your dad gets home.’ Derek whispered, part of him hoping Stiles wouldn’t hear him.

Stiles curled in tighter against him.

‘Stay.’

It wasn’t a question or a plea. Derek willingly did as he was told.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Coming up:  
> Stiles, Derek and Lydia go on a little police investigation of their own.


	28. And A Bottle Of...

Sunday, 8th March

After waking from the hospital, it was a few days before Allison was allowed any visitors. But once she was, there was a line of people outside her room, excited to see her. Stiles had been absent from the line but was assured by Scott that she was doing well.

‘I’ll go see her soon. I just don’t want to crowd her’, he had tried to assure Scott over the phone the night after Scott had been to see her. He might have done a better job had he been able to convince himself first.

In all fairness to Stiles, he had spent his free time since the shooting ploughing through old books he’d found in the town library and deepest depths of the internet in hopes of finding something, anything, that might help them solve the case.

Stiles was startled out of doing just that by the doorbell. He made note of where he had gotten to in _Celtic Folklore, Myths and Culture_ and slipped off his bed. He was still in his pyjamas, hair mused by a fitful sleep without Derek and eyes heavy against the bright grey light streaming through the windows. He slumped down the stairs and rubbed his eye with the heel of his hand as he opened the front door.

His heart sank.

‘Lydia…’

‘Good morning, Stiles.’ Lydia greeted with a smile that Stiles knew meant business. She took no time in stepping into the house and shrugging her coat off, hanging it on one of the hooks by the door.

‘Err…you ok? What are you doing here?’

Stiles didn’t know why he was bothering to ask. He knew it was going to be about Allison-

‘I’m here to get cracking on with solving this case. I wasn’t that interested before but Derek getting shot is a little too close to home.’

Or not.

‘Oh…I didn’t know you cared that much about him.’

‘Well, to be honest, I was a little more concerned about something happening to Scott or you or myself.’ She tucked hair behind her ear, walking into the living room, towards the stairs. ‘Although, I guess he’s been looking out for you and he’s come to our rescue more times than I can count.’ She paused at the bottom of the stairs and smiled. ‘I suppose I do care. And it seems you do too.’

Stiles was caught with nothing to say as Lydia fled upstairs, the click clack of her doll heals echoing in the hallway.

The rest of Stiles’ morning was spent eyeing Lydia as they sat on his bed, sheets of paper and books scattered all around them.

‘Ok, so we actually know very little.’ Lydia sighed. She tapped the toe of her shoe against the floor, her other leg tucked under her skirt.

‘I tried my best.’

Lydia rubbed a hand up his arm, eyes never leaving the page she was reading.

‘I know. I’m just looking at what you’ve written here about what we’ve found out so far but there isn’t much conclusive evidence.’ She pushed the page aside and looked over another book but sighed again and shut it with enough force to make Stiles jump. He flushed. He found her presence a little unsettling. Although, if he were being honest, he found anyone but Derek’s company unsettling these days. ‘Enough of this. We need to find a lead. Where to start…?’ She looked over at the police reports Stiles had taken from the system at the station. ‘The only clue we have is the solvent Derek could smell when he got shot.’

‘It’s not in any of the other reports though.’

‘No, but it’s the only physical evidence we have.’

Stiles pulled awkwardly at the hem of his pyjamas bottoms.

‘So what? You wanna go sniffing around for solvents?’

‘I’m not a druggie, Stiles. But yes.’ Lydia slipped off the bed and walked to Stiles’ chest of draws where she proceeded to pull clothes out at random and toss them over her shoulder. Eventually she seemed to find something that didn’t completely offend her and threw it towards the bed. ‘Put this on. And wear those nice black jeans you have.’

‘I didn’t know I needed to look nice to go clue sniffing.’

Lydia huffed and tossed her hair over her shoulder and she took her phone out and started to type something.

‘You don’t but I’m sure as hell not walking around town with someone who looks like they’ve been sleeping rough for a week.’ She paused her typing and looked Stiles up and down. ‘On second thought, you better go shower before we leave.’

‘And where exactly are we going?’ Stiles asked, standing and carrying his change of clothes towards the door.

‘Shower first.’

Stiles begrudgingly did as he was told and shuffled into the bathroom down the corridor. When he was suitably clean, dry and dressed, he walked back to his bedroom where Lydia had organised his research and even put away the discarded clothes.

‘Can’t have you living in squalor, can we?’ she said at the look he threw her. ‘Oh and by the way, we’ll need Derek for this.’

Stiles swallowed, dropping his pyjamas onto the bed.

‘D-Derek? Why Derek?’

‘So he can sniff out the solvent we’re looking for. From his description of it, I’d have said it was Chlorobenzene; smells like almonds.’ She flicked her auburn hair over her shoulder again. It was something she did when she meant business and was a trait Stiles admired. ‘Are you going to call him?’ she asked at his silence. ‘I take it you have his number. After all, you two seem rather _close_ these days.’ Stiles did not miss the raise of her brow as he collected his things. His blood ran cold. Did she know? Had Isaac said anything?

Before Stiles could worry too much, Lydia was picking up his phone and unlocking it.

‘Hey, how d’you know my passcode?’

‘Honestly, Stiles.’ She tutted and continued to scroll through his contacts. Stiles knew if she found Derek’s contact and read their messages, she would know that something was going on between them. He snatched the phone from her and found the contact himself. Instead of calling Derek, he texted him, asking for his help.

Half an hour later, the bell rang again, only this time, Stiles was ready for it and opened the door almost immediately. Stiles offered for Derek to come inside but he refused upon seeing Lydia.

‘What are we doing?’ Derek’s voice was hard, thick with distrust. It was a tone Stiles hadn’t heard on his in a long time.

Lydia adorned her coat and stepped out onto the porch.

‘We’re going to buy some solvent.’

Derek looked between Lydia and Stiles as they walked towards Stiles’ jeep.

‘Sorry, what?’

xxx

_Cleaners Warehouse Store_ was a five mile drive out of Beacon Hills and Stiles regretted offering to drive. He was tired from a sleepless night, plagued with nightmares. He hadn’t seen Derek is several days, both of them taking some time apart to re-evaluate their situation, and his sleep had been poor as a result. The last night’s dreams had been the usual but with a few additions. It had started with Allison being held by the Oni but then Scott was by his side, a sword deep in his gut. Stiles had felt a wave of panic and tried to soothe Scott’s pain until an overwhelming urge to force the blade deeper washed over him and he woke to the image of Scott’s betrayed eyes etched into his brain. He found himself running the dream over in his mind as he drove and almost missed the turning out of town until Lydia nudged him from the back seat.

‘Oi, Stiles, turn right here. Pay attention.’

‘Sorry.’

Stiles didn’t miss Derek’s calculating eyes but he said nothing. Stiles kept looking forward until the large warehouse came into view. It was situated above a small, natural valley on the edge of the treeline of the forest. It was very secluded as all that surrounded it was woodland and open fields. As they drove closer, Stiles wound down a window so Derek could take a sniff.

‘Can you smell it?’

Derek huffed.

‘Give me a second.’

Stiles stopped the car, parking along the roadside. Derek closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. Stiles watched him with fascination. It still intrigued him as to how the werewolves’ enhanced senses worked. He also couldn’t help his lingering gaze on Derek’s chiselled jaw and slightly parted lips. He looked away when Lydia coughed. He could feel her gaze but ignored it, shuffling his feet in the footwell.

‘Anything? Lydia pried.

‘It’s there. It’s faint with all the other chemicals I can smell but I think it’s there.’

‘Well, we’ll know for certain once we’ve bought some. Then we can give it to the boys and Kira to smell. That way everyone can be on the lookout.’

‘Don’t you mean the “sniff-out”?’ Derek and Lydia threw Stiles disparaging looks and climbed out of the jeep. ‘Hey, that was a good one!’

Once out of the car, they split up. Stiles and Lydia found the entrance to the warehouse while Derek went around the outside in the hopes of catching a scent of the hunters.

‘You think he’ll find anything?’ Stiles asked, craning his neck to watch Derek disappear around the corner of the building.

‘Well, if they’re using chlorobenzene to mask their scent, they have to be getting it from somewhere, right? They might have been here at some point and their scent might have lingered. They don’t seem to be the most professional hunters so I wouldn’t be surprised if they were sloppy with their cover ups.’

Stiles nodded as they reached the door and he held it open for her. The space inside was expansive. The space from floor to ceiling was in use with shelves lining the walls, massive crates stacked as far as the eye could see and cranes being used to lift and lower them to and from the shelves. There was a desk set off to the right and a door labelled “Staff Only” behind it. There was a partition blocking customers from passing beyond the level of the desk and Stiles could see that the staff door simply led around to the other side of the waist high partition. They approached the desk where they found no one in attendance.

Lydia clucked her tongue in irritation. Stiles awkwardly moved from one foot to the other, hands wringing as he observed the massive space around him. The vastness of the room was a discomfort to Stiles who had become used to hiding his anxiety in the small confines of his duvet and Derek’s arms. They were on a relatively simple task, an errant more than anything, but Stiles’ palms sweated, his heart palpitating in his chest. The fear of something going wrong was unnatural for him. He was usually the one to jump head first into danger if it meant saving his friends, but right now, Stiles doubted his ability to help anyone. He’d made enough mistakes as it was trying to do just that.

Lydia shot him an irritated look that told him to calm down. She peered over the barrier and caught the attention of someone who begrudgingly came around, through the “Staff Only” door. The man was short and portly, his arms and legs looking to be roughly the same thickness and his round face was decked with a thick, bristly moustache. We wore a cap on his head and Stiles thought he looked like something out of Mario Brothers. He would have laughed to himself had he not been so on edge.

‘Yes?’ the man grunted.

‘Hello.’ Lydia greeted with notably better manners. ‘My friend and I were wondering if you had any chlorobenzene.’ She waited for a response but the man simply raised an eyebrow. At least Stiles thought he did. It was hard to tell when his brow was festooned with two miniature versions of his moustache. Lydia cleared her throat. ‘We need some for a school project. For Biology. We’re testing the effects of pesticides on agricultural and domestic arthropods against the success of crops.’ The man still looked unconvinced. ‘It’s a competition, isn’t that right?’ Lydia turned to Stiles with a forced smile. Stiles started a little but nodded.

‘First prize is a gift voucher for The Cheesecake Factory.’

He could practically hear Lydia’s eyes rolling.

‘So, do you have any?’

Mr. Moustache eyed them both cautiously. His mind seemed to whir and Stiles wondered why he seemed so distrustful of them. Or was Stiles just being paranoid? Eventually the man sighed.

‘Look little lady,’ the man began in a thinning southern accent, completely unfitting for the area. ‘I don’t know squat about this stuff. I just sell it. I don’t need to know what you’re doing with it. I don’t care. How much d’you want?’ His distrustful expression was back. Lydia cleared her throat and Stiles could tell she was trying not to show her irritation. She asked for a single bottle and gave her best smile. The man quivered an interested brow. He slipped off his stool and made towards the storage area but turned and eyed them both sceptically. ‘You’re both eighteen or over right?’

Stiles gulped. He had his fake ID in his wallet and he knew Lydia had one too. He took his out with shaking fingers, silently thanking Deputy Sanchez for being a terrible at following the rules. They both placed their IDs on the desk and the guy hardly looked at Lydia’s, spending more time comparing her photo to the real thing instead of looking at the date. He glanced at Stiles’ for less than a second and tossed it back onto the counter. He then went around the back to look for the solvent.

‘My heart is hammering.’ Stiles pulled at his shirt, fanning himself with it.

‘Clam down. We’re fine. They’re hardly hot on security are they? This guy doesn’t give a shit. He didn’t even notice that the age on your ID means you shouldn’t even still be at school.’

Stiles wasn’t so sure about that but put his ID away, glad he hadn’t been questioned about it. The guy in the photo didn’t even look that much like him. At least Lydia had had hers made with her actual photo.

‘I wonder how Derek is getting on.’

‘You think he might have caught a scent?’

Stiles wrinkled his nose.

‘Doubt it. How can he with all this industrial solvent stacking the walls? At least he was able to sniff out the one we’re looking for.’

Lydia drummed her fingers on the desk, impatient at the man’s slow and questionable work ethic.

‘You know,’ she said, turning to Stiles with an amused expression. ‘usually you’d have been the one trying to purchase something illegally and would have mucked it up by now. You’d probably be out on your ass already.’

Stiles offered a smile of his own and shrugged.

‘I guess I’m just different now. I’m not quite…myself.’

Lydia hummed, concern flickering in her eyes.

‘You will be. You’ll find your way back.’ She drummed her fingers again but with a look of uncertainty, as if she wasn’t sure is she should speak her mind. ‘I know you don’t want to hear this but it would probably help you to see Allison. She’s doing really well but she wants to see you.’

‘I-’ Before Stiles could speak, the man barrelled through the door again, using his extended stomach to push the double doors open.

‘You’re in luck.’ the man grunted as he dumped a white bottle down on the desk. ‘Last one in stock. Someone’s been buying them up snappish. Had a whole crate load only a couple months ago but some buyer keeps coming back for large quantities.’

‘Really?’ Lydia feigned surprise, barely masking her honest intrigue. ‘Who would need such a vast quantity of chlorobenzene?’

The man studied her quizzically and grunted, seemingly regretting the slip of information.

‘Don’t ask me. I just sell the stuff.’

‘As I gather.’

‘You said someone kept coming back.’ Stiles pressed, leaning towards the desk. ‘Do you know who it was?’

‘Why d’you wanna know? And why should I tell you?’

Stiles gave what he hoped was a reassuring smile.

‘No reason, just hoping it’s not someone from school trying to outdo us.’

The man folded his arms, moustache quivering as he scrunched up his face, lips pursed.

‘It wasn’t any kids. I can say that. Dunno who they were. Not seen them before a few months ago.’

‘But they must have been from a company, buying large quantities of solvent like that?’ Stiles realised he may be overstepping and could cause suspicion but they could be on to something. The man bristled and looked uncomfortable. He glanced around nervously and looked as though he were about to say something but his expression suddenly hardened.

‘Look here, I’m not meant to be telling some weird kids about who comes and goes and who buys what and when. So just clear off before I refuse to sell this to you. I have the right not to you know!’

‘We’re sorry. Thank you.’ Lydia said hurriedly and handed over the money while Stiles took the bottle and they made for the exit.

Once they were out of the warehouse and out of ear shot, Stiles swore loudly.

‘We were so close! He definitely knows something.’

‘What makes you so sure?’ Lydia asked, rubbing her cold hands together as they walked back to the jeep.

‘Well, the fact that he was so jumpy and aggressive. And he definitely wanted to tell us something when I asked who it was buying all the solvent. Maybe he was threatened not to tell anyone.’

‘But surely it would have to be in their books? You can’t sell a product and not register it; he’d lose his job.’

‘Maybe it’s worth the risk to keep his life.’ Stiles offered, rejigging the heavy bottle as they reached the car and Derek sauntered back into view. ‘Any luck?’

Derek shook his head.

‘Too many over powering smells around here. You?’

Lydia took the bottle from Stiles and opened the lid.

‘Smell this.’ She held it to Derek who took one sniff and nodded. ‘That it?’

‘That’s it.’

‘Ok, so now what?’ Stiles bounced form one foot to the other. ‘We take it to Scott and the others and see if anyone can catch a scent?’

‘It’s the most logical step. Unless anyone else can think of anything better?’

Stiles and Derek shook their heads so they all piled back into the jeep and returned to the centre of town.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Coming up:  
> The group discuss their next move in solving the case and Derek starts to realise that it is possible to love again.


	29. Bitter Sweet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone.  
> I just want to say a big thank you for all the lovely comments so far! I have replied to all of them to say thank you but I thought I would say it here in case anyone didn't see my reply :)  
> Ok, so this chapter has Peter in it briefly. However, other than this chapter, I haven't included him. I found that the story just became too complicated to add him in any further. But I might change my mind and re write the last few chapters to include him. I just wanted to say this now in case anyone is expecting him to feature more later. It is probably unlikely atm.  
> Anyway, on with the chapter - we're getting so close to the end now! Still lots of exciting stuff to go though!

Sunday, 8th March

‘You’re right, it does smell like almonds.’ Scott said, passing the bottle back to Lydia. She moved down the line so everyone could have a good sniff.

‘I know not all of you have a supernatural sense of smell’ she started, holding the bottle up for them. ‘but you might be able to smell the solvent anyway. It’s a halogenated solvent which have the most pungent smell.’

‘So we should just keep an eye out for this smell?’ Kira asked, backing away from the strong smell.

Derek looked to Stiles, as if daring him to make another smell related joke. He held his tongue this time.

‘Yeah. Just tell us if you smell it anywhere and we’ll check it out.’

‘Did any of the reports say anything about solvents?’ Isaac asked, leaning back against Scott’s sofa. ‘Any of the other victims smell it?’

Stiles shook his head.

‘I couldn’t find any other reference to any solvent in the statements. But a lot of the shootings seem to have been from a fair distance so I guess they wouldn’t be able to smell it anyway.’

‘So how do we know this was even the same people?’ Isaac frowned. ‘If everyone else was shot from far away and Derek was shot from a much closer range - as far as we can tell - then how can we be sure it’s the same gunman?’

‘What about the bullets?’ Scott suggested. ‘Maybe if we can smell the solvent on those, we’ll know for sure that all these people were shot by the same person. Maybe we’ll find some more links between them.’

‘I thought about that. I was thinking of asking Sanchez if I could take a look at them. It’ll be a bit difficult to figure out how to get one of you guys in there to sniff around though because I sure as hell won’t be able to take any of the bullets out with me and Sanchez doesn’t know about the supernatural so he won’t understand why someone is sniffing the evidence.’

‘How strong does the smell need to be?’ Lydia asked, directed at Derek.

‘For me to recognise it?’ She nodded. ‘Pretty faint actually. I could probably smell any residue of the solvent if I was in the same room as them.’

‘So you wouldn’t need to shove one up your nose to get a good sniff?’ Stiles joked and Derek scowled.

‘But that still doesn’t help. He needs to be in the room.’ Kira pointed out.

‘Well, what about Scott?’ Lydia said pointedly.

‘What about me?’

‘You’re a True Alpha. Surely your senses are stronger than Isaac or Derek’s.’

Scott shrugged.

‘Maybe. I guess they might be.’

‘And it won’t be as odd for you to be in the station with me. The deputies have seen you there with me all the time.’ Stiles wagged his finger as he spoke, eyes off cast in a manner that Derek recognised as thought processing. ‘I think that could work. I’ll ask my dad if the bullets have been brought back to the station yet.’

Stiles took out his phone and moved out of the living room as he called his father.

Derek moved around the sofa and sat down whilst the others chatted amongst themselves. He noticed Lydia move across the room to him, the bottle still in her hands as she screwed on the lid and placed it on the coffee table. She took a seat on the sofa next to Derek, neatly folded her legs and rested her hands on her knee.

‘It’s good what you’re doing for Stiles.’ She spoke quietly, enough so that no one would overhear. ‘Whatever it is you’re doing, it’s helping.’

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

Lydia gave him a scathing look.

‘You can pretend that nothing is happening but I know Stiles and I can tell that something is going on. Whatever it is doesn’t matter but it’s helping him get through everything that’s happened to him. To us. A month ago he probably wouldn’t have answered my texts or calls but now he’s trying to work with us to help save people’s lives. He’s not the same as he used to be but I think he’s getting there. Thanks partly to you.’

Derek opened his mouth to argue that he’d done very little other than offer Stiles an ear to bend, even if that wasn’t entirely true – ok, it was a complete lie – but Stiles returned, confirming that the bullets were back at the station and that he and Scott could take a look at them tomorrow.

‘Apparently Sanchez is out of town tomorrow so we don’t have to worry about getting up close and personal with the evidence. My dad will oversee us instead so it’s all good.’

Derek nodded along with everyone else and was about to ask Stiles when he wanted to go to the station together, to take a look at the bullets, when Stiles turned to Scott.

‘Wanna go after school tomorrow?’

‘After lacrosse?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Fine with me.’

Derek swallowed down the flicker of jealously that Stiles didn’t ask him and refused to dwell on it. He folded his arms and felt his naturally dark expression darken further.

With their next plan of action in place, everyone headed home. Stiles drove Lydia and Derek back to his house where their cars were sat on the drive. Lydia promptly got in her car and left, leaving Derek and Stiles standing awkwardly by Derek’s Toyota.

They hadn’t spoken much since the day Allison woke up from her coma. Derek had told Stiles to take time to figure out what he wanted to do. Derek guessed now was as good a time as any to find out.

‘We never exactly decided what we were gonna do…about us.’

Stiles nodded and drummed his fingers against the bonnet of his car. He looked to the floor and shuffled his feet.

‘I umm…I think that I…I know that I don’t want to stop…you know.’

Stiles met Derek’s gaze.

‘Ok.’

‘Ok?’ Stiles’ choked a little, as if he wasn’t expecting Derek to agree so easily.

Derek nodded.

‘Yeah.’

‘So…you want to keep…’

‘Having sex? Yeah, if that’s what you need.’

Stiles looked a little embarrassed.

‘Is that what you want?’

Derek looked into his worried honey brown eyes.

‘Yes.’ He knew it was true. Not only was the sex phenomenal but it provided Derek with the chance to escape his thoughts just as much as it did Stiles. Stiles seemed convinced and relaxed his hunched shoulders. ‘How you feeling? About Allison.’

‘I dunno. I’m glad she’s doing ok but I know that I’ve got to see her at some point and I guess I’m kind of scared about that.’

Derek nodded.

‘I get that. I’m sure she’d be glad to see you though.’

‘That’s what the others said. Even Isaac.’

‘I know. I went to see her.’

Stiles’ eyes shot up to him.

‘You did?’ Stiles swallowed. ‘And?’

‘She was surprisingly glad to see me. Chris told her I’d been to visit her regularly and she seemed to appreciate it.’

Stiles nodded once.

Derek sighed and looked into the house through a window.

‘I’m guessing your dad isn’t home considering his car isn’t here.’

‘He has an evening shift tonight.’ Stiles sounded a little glum at the thought of spending the evening alone.

‘Wanna come over?’

xxx

They stumbled through the door together, Derek slamming it shut with one hand behind him, his other hand holding Stiles’ waist firmly as Stiles kissed him thoroughly. Stiles was already moaning, clearly excited about what was to come. They took a collective step further into the loft, both of Derek's hands pulling Stiles closer to him, desperately. Stiles began shrugging off his jacket when Derek's lips stilled on his.

'Peter...'

Stiles froze too, still nose to nose with Derek.

'Umm, you've called me some pretty interesting names since we started doing this but I'm not sure I like that one.'

'No,' Derek hissed in a whisper. 'Peter's here.'

'That I am.' said a voice from across the room. Stiles turned to look at the older werewolf coming down the stairs. Derek scowled at the irritatingly smug look Peter was wearing. 'My, my. I have to say, I never saw this coming. Derek, you really know how to pick the odd balls don't you?'

'What are you doing here, Peter? I haven't got time for your games.'

'Wha-' Peter adorned a look of fake offence. 'Can't an uncle come visit his favourite nephew without being suspected of something terrible?'

'When it's you, no.' Derek held no warmth in his voice.

Peter was standing in the middle of the room, looking directly at Stiles.

‘Well, I just thought we should have an uncle to nephew chat. It’s been so long.’ he said with mocking disappointment.

‘I’d rather not, thanks.’ Derek replied, stepping away from Stiles and walking to the sofa where he took off his jacket.

‘I’d have thought you might be interested in discussing our little silver bullet gunman, especially considering you got shot not that long ago.’

‘Don’t tell me you’re afraid?’ Derek scoffed.

‘Of course not.’ Peter gave an irritating smile. ‘I tend to find I’m the one people are afraid of.’ He looked directly at Stiles who rolled his eyes. Derek knew Peter didn’t scare him. He was pathetic and Stiles had, on several occasions, vocally pitied Derek and Malia for sharing his blood. ‘But if you’re busy, and I can see you are,’ his voice laced with sarcasm. ‘I’ll leave you in peace.’ He began to walk to the door, Derek moving back to Stiles’ side. 'You know, I've never really been able to understand what your type is, Derek. You seem to...hop...from one type to another. First there was the lovely, sweet Paige.' Derek growled lowly in his chest. 'But we all know how that ended. And then the notorious Kate. Not exactly what I had expected, I have to say. You seemed to follow on quite nicely from Kate to Jennifer...until we found out she was a disgusting, disfigured monster. The one after that seemed pretty disfigured as well, now that I think about it. Maybe I'm wrong. Maybe you do have a type.' Peter stepped up to where Derek and Stiles stood, hands casually behind is back. 'So,' he looked Stiles up as down. 'what's wrong with this one then?'

Derek suddenly lurched forward and hit Peter square on the jaw. Peter stumbled backwards down the step. When he regained his balance, he held his jaw in his hand, smirking.

'What a temper. You'll need to learn to control that, Derek, or you might end up hurting someone.' Peter's eyes flickered over to Stiles for a brief moment. Derek growled again, louder this time. 'Well, I think I'll be on my way then.' Peter walked towards them, passing between where they stood only a foot apart. As he came close, he stopped and turned to Derek. 'Like I said, be careful. You don't want to end up killing this one too.' He winked at Derek, patting him on the shoulder, and walked to the door. Derek bit his lip to stop himself from retaliating. Peter was trying to upset him by reminding him of Paige and how she died at Derek's hands. He refused to show Peter any weakness; he'd let his anger bubble over once already and he wouldn't do it again. It gave Peter too much pleasure.

While he tried to hold himself back, Stiles seemed to have a different idea and followed Peter to the door. When Peter had opened it and was standing on the other side of the threshold, Stiles leaned out with a sweet smile.

'You don't need to worry about me, Peter, I'm a big boy now. But thanks.' Peter smirked back, eyebrow raised as he went to walk away. Stiles made as to shut the door but poked his head out again at the last moment. 'Oh and by the way,' Peter turned back around. 'I had sex with your daughter. Bye!' Stiles slammed the door on Peter's outraged face.

Derek stared in disbelief as Stiles walked calmly back to him.

'That was fun.' Stiles said with a laugh. Derek stared a little longer. 'What?'

Derek shook his head.

'Nothing, just a bit surprised is all. I don't think he'll be too pleased about what you said.'

'Good.'

A moment of silence passed between them.

'So...did you really sleep with Malia?'

'Nah, we never got round to it. I just wanted to rile him up.' Stiles said with a wink.

Derek looked at him for a moment before he laughed loudly and pulled Stiles in close.

xxx

_Derek sat on the edge of his bed, his hands hanging limply between his legs. His knuckles were throbbing and bruised but the pain was slowly easing as his body fought to heal his wounds. His bedroom wall was a little worse for wear, a sizable hole now gracing the previously smooth cream paint._

_He thought there would be tears but his body was too tired. He’d exhausted himself of tears by now and felt only anger. And after that, only emptiness. He should feel bad for damaging the house but found he didn’t care. He’d lost too much to care about how others might be feeling._

_Just as the pain in his hands faded, he heard someone outside his bedroom door. He knew they all would have been able to hear him punching a hole in the wall, screaming in frustration. None of them tried to stop him now. They knew he needed to alleviate his frustration, to find some way of forgetting. But someone was hovering._

_‘Fuck off!’_

_The door opened with a soft squeak._

_‘Watch your language.’ Laura scolded with zero vehemence. She walked towards the bed and sat beside him, a book in her hand. ‘You ok?’ Derek would have rolled his eyes if he weren’t so bloody tired. ‘You’re right, stupid question.’ All Derek could manage was a grunt. ‘You know, sitting up here all alone isn’t going to help. You need to be around people. We can help you.’_

_‘I don’t want anyone’s help.’_

_‘Why?’ Derek resorted to grunting again. He wasn’t in the mood for one of Laura’s therapy sessions. She was always trying to solve other people’s problems rather than her own. ‘Cora misses spending time with you. And you know mum and dad are worried.’_

_She rested a hand on his knee but he moved away from her touch. It burned his skin._

_He didn’t deserve the comfort of touch._

_‘Just go.’_

_‘You know I won’t.’ Laura said quietly. She shifted onto the bed and sat up against the pillows. Derek watched for from the corner of his eyes, following her until he could no longer see her._

_He sighed as she settled into a comfortable position, clearly not intending on going anywhere anytime soon._

_She sat with him for a long time, his head resting against her shoulder as they lay on the bed. Laura picked up the book she had brought in with her and thumbed through the pages. Derek watched her read, holding the book with one hand, the other in his hair, soothing him. Every now and then, she would remove her hand to turn a page. Derek looked up at the pages of the book and scanned over a few lines. He recognised it as one of the books he'd been given to read in class but he'd never gotten through the first few chapters. Paige had borrowed it once when she'd forgotten her own during a study period. His copy sat in his school locker, a note from Paige scrawled in the corner of the inside cover. Derek read a few more lines of Laura's copy and then finished the page. He moved onto the next. Laura lifted her hand to turn the page but Derek put his own hand up, resting it on hers. He held it there for a few moments until he had finished the last line and then let her turn. He heard Laura smile above him._

_'Here.' she said, closing the book and handing it to him. 'Take it. I've read it before.'_

_Derek took the offered book and sat up as Laura moved off the bed. Derek turned the book over, knowing what he'd find._

Of Mice and Men, _the cover read._

_'You sure?'_

_'Yeah, I read it in school a couple years ago. I think you'll like it.’ She slipped off the bed and made for the door, stopping before she stepped out. ‘You know, you might find some comfort in reading. I know you’re trying to channel your feelings through anger and physicality but what could be better than transferring yourself into an entirely different world through a book?’ She shrugged. ‘Just a thought. And it might give the wall a break too.’ She winked at him. ‘Read. You’ll like it.’_

_And Derek did. It was a short novel and he read it from beginning to end in a night. He stayed up until the early hours of the morning until he reached the end, closing the book softly, his heart wrenching. He'd seen why Laura thought he'd like it; the sacrifice George had made to save the friend he loved so dearly rang true with Derek. George took Lennie's life to save him from unimaginable pain and suffering over something he just couldn't understand. And just like Lennie, Paige had been so innocent. While she suspected there was something special about Derek, she could never have known the extent of the supernatural world that lay just beyond her sight. She's died in pain and confusion, receiving the bite by force with no understanding of what it meant or that Derek had agreed to it because he loved her so much. George took Lennie's life because he loved him and because he couldn't fix the mistakes that had already innocently been made. Derek took Paige’s life for the same reasons._

_Derek knew that the next day he would go to school and find his copy of the book, bring it home and treasure it for the rest of his life._

_He would never let her memory fade._

_He couldn’t ever let her go._

xxx

Derek woke to darkness.

He blinked to clear his eyes, the images of his dream fading but their memory cast deep in his mind. He could feel a single tear trickle down his cheek and hit the pillow. He rolled over in bed and the stutter of his heart eased at the sight of Stiles, fast asleep beside him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Coming up:  
> Stiles gets further involved in the case and gets himself into trouble at the station.


	30. Warning Sign

Monday, 9th March

Stiles hoisted his lacrosse kit into the back of his jeep, watching Scott zip past him on his bike. He raised a hand briefly, knowing he’d see him again at the station in only a few minutes. He climbed into the drivers’ seat and set off after Scott. Lacrosse hadn’t been as therapeutic as expected. He’d tried to focus all his energy on the ball but thoughts of Allison clouded his mind. He knew that at some point he was going to see her again.

He pushed the thought away as the station approached and he parked next to Scott’s motorbike where the wolf was waiting for him with his helmet under his arm.

Stiles had texted his dad to let him know they were on their way so he wasn’t surprised to find the Sheriff waiting for them at the door. He ushered them inside and to his office where he placed the bullets in front of them, still in their sealed evidence bag.

‘Alright Scotty, you’re up.’ The Sheriff indicated to the bag, sitting behind his desk.

‘Ok.’ Scott reached out for the bag but paused. ‘Can I?’

The Sheriff nodded, taking a sip of his coffee.

‘Just open the bag. Don’t touch any of them.’

Scott nodded and Stiles watched as he opened the seal and hesitantly inhaled. His nose twitched and he furrowed his brow. He sniffed again.

‘Anything?’

Scott made a muffled grunt.

‘Yeah, I think so. But it’s mixed in with other things.’

‘Like what?’ the Sheriff asked, leaning forward with intrigue. Stiles could tell his father was equally, if not more, fascinated by werewolf senses as he was.

‘I’m not sure. I can smell the solvent and something…damp.’

‘Damp?’

‘Yeah, and something else. It’s all mixed together and kinda confusing. It’s kind of like ammonia.’

Stiles repressed his surprise that Scott new what ammonia smelled like – he was trying to pay more attention in class these days – and let his mind whir.

‘Ok, so they’ve been staying somewhere damp…maybe underground?’

‘Well, we don’t know that.’ The Sheriff rested his chin on his fist. ‘The dampness could have just come from where they were storing the bullets or where they got them from.’

Stiles sagged at his father’s words. He was right.

‘Ok, well why ammonia?’

‘Well, that could be from anything. It’s used in cleaning agents. It’s probably sold in the same place where you got the chloro-ch…’

‘Chlorobenzene.’ Stiles filled in, sighing.

‘Look, I know you want to help and I’m sure this will all end up being important somehow but you can’t start putting pieces together before you’ve even _found_ any pieces.’

Stiles fought down a scowl. He just needed to find something bigger, something to push him in the right direction but it was all happening too slowly. If he didn’t get a move on, they might end up losing someone for real this time.

Shortly after, his dad thanked Scott for coming and sent them both off, promising Stiles that he’d be home before he went to bed.

The boys walked back to the jeep and Stiles threw open the door.

‘You ok?’

He looked over to Scott with an exasperated sigh.

‘Just fed up.’ Stiles hopped up onto the drivers’ seat, legs hanging out the open door, and scrubbed at his face. ‘I feel like I’m never gonna get anywhere with this.’

‘Stiles, we’ve only just started.’

‘ _You_ might have but I’ve been looking into this for weeks and I’ve got nothing. I’m meant to be able to figure these things out.’

It was Scott’s turn to sigh, placing his helmet down on the seat of his bike and leaning against the jeep.

‘Stiles, no one has said that you can’t. You’ve just got to be patient. It’s not all going to come and slap you round the face.’ Stiles couldn’t help chuckling. Scott had a way of lightening any mood. ‘Just let things unveil themselves in their own time. It’s not like anything has really happened.’

‘People are getting shot, Scott.’

‘I know that but apart from Derek being shot, we don’t have much evidence that suggests this has anything to do with us.’

‘But the solv-’

‘The solvent could mean a number of things, as could the ammonia and the silver bullets.’ Scott stood in front of Stiles and squeezed his knee. ‘You’re reading too much into all of this before it’s necessary.’

‘You’ve changed your tune.’ Stiles grumbled. Only the other day, he was just as worried as Stiles.

‘I know. But since Allison woke up from her coma…I’ve been thinking a lot.’

Stiles scratched his scalp in irritation.

‘You’re gonna have to go into more detail than that, Scotty. I’m smart but I can’t read minds.’

Scott shook his head with a laugh.

‘I know. Seeing Allison in the hospital these last few months, worrying about whether or not I was ever gonna see her alive again or talk to her or tell her how much-’ Scott’s voice caught and he cleared it with a strangled cough. ‘how much she means to me, it made me realise that if she ever woke up, I’d do whatever I could to have a normal friendship with her. With all of you. No more hunters and werewolves, no druids or nemetons or kidnapping and murder. I know it’s wishful thinking but I can’t help wanting a simpler life. I can’t pretend all of this doesn’t worry me but I keep reminding myself that if I spend my whole life being afraid of what might happen, I’m not going to be happy. I’m never going to have the life that I want for myself. And I think maybe you should start thinking the same way.’

Later that evening, Stiles was pondering on Scott’s words. He sat on his bed, mulling through the masses of papers he had printed out on his bed. He re-read several reports, looked over the hunting families he’d track through to America and, out of desperation, looked up the combination of smells Scott had gotten from the bullets. As he came up short at every turn, his irritation piquing when he accidentally knocked his coffee over and is stained one of the books he’d taken out of the library, he began to wonder if Scott was right. He had enough to worry about just being a teenager. Not only did he have school work and lacrosse, he also had his dad to look after, making sure he ate healthily and didn’t work himself into the ground, as well as the fear of having to see Allison again. And to top it all off, he found that no matter what he did, his mind was filled with thoughts of Derek.

It was all too much at once. He was only one person.

Maybe it would be ok to set this all aside. He could do that. He should do what Scott suggested. Just let it all sort itself out.

However, only a few minutes after his resolution to unload his stress and leave the detective work to Sheriff’s station, he realised he couldn’t do it.

Derek almost got shot. He could have died had it really been a hunter and the bullet been laced with mountain ash. Allison had only just been brought back to them. What if she got hurt again because they underestimated these people? And Scott, he was trying not to let it worry him but that only made Stiles more nervous. If his friends weren’t going to watch out for themselves, Stiles was going to have to do it for them.

He just needed to push forward.

He could do it.

He had to.

xxx

Wednesday, 11th March

And that was why he found himself nervously stood outside Roger Hamilton’s front door, hand raised in an awkward knock. He waited almost a minute before he heard movement behind the door and it swung open. He was met with a suspicious stare.

‘Hello?’

‘Umm, hi.’ Stiles shifted his weight between his feet.

‘Who are you?’

The man was a little blunt but Stiles supposed it was only normal for someone who had recently been shot.

‘My name is Stiles. I was actually kind of hoping to speak to you about umm, about the person who shot you.’

Robert’s expression, already heavy, sank and darkened.

‘That’s none of your business. Please, go away.’ He made to shut the door but Stiles put a hand out.

‘Please, don’t. I really need to talk to you.’ He fumbled for something in his pocket, something he had hoped he wouldn’t need to use. He held his dad’s old badge up. ‘I’m with the police. I was hoping to talk to you about the incident. We think we may have a lead.’

Robert’s eyes brightened a little and the fear etched into his brow smoothed out somewhat. He seemed to take a few moments to decide what he should do before he stepped back, opening the door fully open and nodding for Stiles to come in.

A few minutes later, Stiles was sat on the man’s sofa, his father’s badge back in his jeans pocket. He was glad Robert hadn’t asked to see it in closer detail. Robert sat opposite him. He looked nervous, pulling at the sleeves of his jumper and bobbing his knee continuously. He was young, no more than five years older than Stiles, but his nervous disposition and dark circles under his eyes added another five.

‘So…what do you need to know?’

Stiles watched Robert’s eyes darting around the room. His knee continued to bob.

‘Umm, right. Yeah.’ Stiles coughed unnecessarily to fill the silence between them as he tried to remember what it was he had gone there to ask. ‘Right, ok. I was wondering- I wanted to ask about your statement.’

‘My statement?’

‘That you made after the incident.’

‘Yes, I recall.’

‘Yes, right. Ok. Umm, so, when you made the statement, did you write down everything that happened?’

Robert frowned.

‘Yes. To the best of my ability.’

‘The best of- so you might have _missed_ something?’

‘Not that I’m aware of.’ He pulled his sleeve right over his hand. He was still scowling. ‘Why? What are you asking me?’

‘Umm, right.’ Stiles needed to stop saying that. He also needed to figure out what he was asking. ‘Ok, let me just go back a bit. Your medical report from the indecent states that you were shot from a relatively short distance in comparison to a lot of the other victims, hence why your injury was more severe.’ Stiles didn’t miss how Robert’s hand hovered over the right side of his abdomen where Stiles knew he’d been shot. He had required intensive surgery to repair internal damage and had only recently come out of hospital. ‘And I was wondering if you might have noticed anything in the area that might give us an indication as to who it was that shot you.’

‘Like what? I already told the police that I didn’t see anything. I didn’t see anyone. I was walking home after dinner with my friends.’

‘And you were alone?’

‘Yes.’ Robert said shortly. He was clearly not happy about returning to that night. ‘I went to see my friends, left the restaurant about nine fifteen and on my way home I smelt something weird and then the next thing I know, I’ve been shot.’

Stiles’ heart leapt in his chest.

‘Something weird? What was it? What did you smell?’

Robert seemed a little taken aback at the excitement in Stiles’ voice.

‘Umm, I don’t really know. Something harsh, like a chemical. I don’t know what it was. Don’t you have all of this information already?’

‘I don’t think so. It wasn’t in your statement.’

‘I’m pretty sure I mentioned it.’

Stiles chewed his lip, trying to remember Robert’s statement. He had read it earlier that day. He’d chosen to find Robert because he was one of the only victims who was shot at a close enough distance to possibly be able to smell the solvent being used to mask the smell of the gunman. It had made him wish even more so that Álvaro Urzua, the victim who survived a similar shooting in New Mexico, hadn’t gone missing. He needed as many useful witnesses as possible.

‘Are you sure?’

‘Well, I think so. But I guess I could be wrong. It all happened so fast and I can’t really remember much of what happened after I was taken to the hospital. It’s all a blur now. I just don’t want to remember any of it.’

Stiles nodded, trying to look sympathetic when in reality his mind was alive with possibilities. He thanked Robert for his time and wished him a good day before he saw himself out and hurried back to his car which he’d part around the corner.

xxx

Stiles found Robert Hamilton’s incident report on the top of the pile of reports he’d printed from the station’s online system which were stacked on his desk. He snapped it up and flicked through the sheets of paper until he found the statement. He read it quickly but found it to be as expected; no mention of any solvents or strange smells. He turned to the pile again and flicked through them until he found his own. He pulled it out from the pile and scanned through his statement. He remembered telling Sanchez about the solvent before they left the station and he had promised to add it to his report. But as his eyes flickered over the words, he found no such inclusion from Sanchez. He looked back to Robert’s and read over the fuzzy statement for the third time that day. The report had been written by hand, as had all the others, and then scanned into the system. It wasn’t entirely uncommon for the reports to be a little difficult to read once they had been scanned. Sometimes this was because of bad handwriting but also from poor quality of the scanner. But the quality of this statement seemed particularly poor. There were lines that were almost illegible and as Stiles scrutinised it, he noticed a line in the middle where it looked as if someone had used correction fluid over the text and written over it. The handwriting looked a little different but not enough so to make Stiles suspicions the first time he’d read through the report.

‘I need to see this report.’ he said to the empty room. ‘I need to see the original.’

It only took him five minutes to get to the station. His heart was pounding in his chest as he ran up the steps and through the doors. He didn’t wait to speak to anyone behind the desk but went straight to his dad’s office where he didn’t even bother to knock. Luckily, his dad was alone and, while startled and a little ruffled by his son’s raucous behaviour, greeted him with a smile.

‘You ok, son?’

‘I need to see the reports.’

‘Oh good, I’m well too.’

Stiles rolled his eyes.

‘I’m fine. I just need to see the reports.’

‘What reports?’

‘Dad, you know what reports.’

‘Alright, alright. Just calm down. Why d’you need to see them?’

‘I need to check something.’

The Sheriff rubbed his clearly tired eyes.

‘Stiles, you know I can’t let just anybody come in here and look at whatever documents they want.’

‘Well, it’s a good thing I’m not “just anybody” and that I only want to look at one report then, isn’t it?’ Stiles could tell his father was already beginning to give up the fight against him. He just needed a little push. ‘Dad…please. I know I can figure this out if you just let me look.’ His dad bit the inside of his cheek, brow creased. ‘Please.’

Stiles could have done a happy dance when his dad stood and grunted at him to follow in a way that Stiles knew held no aggression.

‘You’ve got five minutes.’ he said as he unlocked the door to the records room where Stiles had been on many an occasion. He knew how the documents were organised and hurried over to the filing cabinet he needed. It didn’t take him long to find Robert’s original report and he carefully withdrew it from his segment of the draw. He felt his heart leap when he saw what he was looking for. The statement looked exactly as the one he had in his room apart from the obvious difference that this version hadn’t been scanned. The pen marks were original, as was the long white strip of correction fluid. Someone had changed the statement. Someone was trying to cover something up. Something to do with the solvent Derek had smelled when he got shot. Things were finally falling into place and Stiles needed to figure out what tied them all together.

He took a photo of the report, just in case, before neatly putting it away and hurrying back out to where his dad was barring the door.

‘Got what you needed?’

‘Yep.’ Stiles couldn’t help but smile.

‘Is it something you want to talk to Sanchez about? Cause he’s still not back yet. He’s taken a few more days off.’

‘Actually, I can’t talk to him about this.’ His dad opened his mouth, seemingly to ask why, but Stiles ushered him back to his office. ‘I’ll explain.’ He waited for the Sheriff to sit back behind his desk before he began. ‘Ok, this all might sound a little unbelievable but bear with me.’ He cleared his throat and stood up straight. ‘How much do you know about Deputy Sanchez?’

‘Sanchez? I dunno. I know he moved here from Michigan, that he trained at Oakland Police Academy and that he’s been working on this case. I don’t really know him that well outside of work. I haven’t had time to get to know him much.’

‘Ok, so it’s safe to say you don’t know him well enough to be sure that he’s legit?’

Stiles paced up and down the room as he spoke, turning to look at his dad.

‘Legit? Stiles, what are you talking about?’

‘Just answer.’

The Sheriff huffed.

‘Ok. Yeah, I guess I don’t know him well enough to confidently say that he’s all he seems to be. Maybe he’s different outside of the station. But I’m different outside the station; I’m usually more stressed at home having to deal with you.’

There was no malice behind his words and Stiles would have smiled if he weren’t trying to convince his dad of the serious realisation he had had when he saw that report.

‘This is gonna sound crazy but just listen.’ Stiles took a long breath. ‘I think Sanchez might be forging the documents for this case.’

‘What?’

‘Ok, well only one of them so far. I haven’t look at the others in such detail yet but I know for _sure_ that someone has made changes to Robert Hamilton’s statement and Deputy Sanchez is the one working on this case.’

‘Stiles, what are you talking about?’ the Sheriff repeated.

‘Ok, the report I needed to see was Robert Hamilton’s. I was looking at the copy of his statement that I printed from the stations’ system-’

‘Oh, god. Stiles!’

‘and I saw that part of it had been edited. I needed to see the original to be sure but someone has covered up part of the statement and written something else over the top. The handwriting looks a little different too so I don’t think it was written by Mr Hamilton.’

‘Ok, firstly, why were you on the system looking at private documents? And secondly, what would he be trying to cover up if he were forging the documents?’

Stiles knew he couldn’t tell his father about going to see Robert without revealing that he stole his dad’s old badge from before he became the Sheriff.

He ignored the first question.

‘When Derek and I came in to make a statement, I told Sanchez about the solvent smell Derek had picked up. I told him just before we left and asked him to put it in my statement. But when I looked at it, he hadn’t. And when I saw that another statement had be changed, I thought that it must be because he’s purposely been trying to cover up evidence of something.’

‘What makes you think that, just because he forgot to add something to your statement, he deliberately changed the same detail in another? How do you know that Mr Hamilton even smelt solvent when he was shot?’

Stiles’ fingers clenched and continued to pace the room.

‘I just…I just know.’

‘Stiles, that’s hardly solid evidence, is it?’

Stiles dropped down into the seat opposite his dad and gestured with his hands.

‘I know it’s not but you’ve got to trust me. After everything that’s happen over the last year or so, you’ve got to accept the possibility that not everyone is who they say they are.’ The Sheriff eyed him, on the edge of accepting the possibility it seemed. But then he shook his head.

‘No, he can’t be. He’s a good man. I’d know if he weren’t.’

Stiles sighed and threw his hands up.

‘You say that but what do we really know for certain anymore?’

‘Stiles, I know my deputies.’

‘Really? You just said you couldn’t be sure that Sanchez is who he says he is.’

‘I meant in terms of his personality during work and non-work hours, Stiles.’

‘Ok, but you can’t say you know him. You can’t be sure.’

‘This is ridiculous.’

‘Dad, listen to me! You can never really know something for sure. We all thought the supernatural wasn’t real. We thought Werewolves didn’t exist, that Ms. Blake was a normal school teacher. We didn’t think Allison would ever wake up or that Peter would come back to life. We didn’t ever think that I could be possessed by a demon and that I could kill all those people but I did! Everything we think we know, everything we are sure of is not what it seems. Nothing in this world is how we once thought it was and you can’t deny that.’

Stiles watched his father’s thoughts tick over. He could see it behind his eyes, could see that he was starting to come round to the idea.

‘Stiles, I-’

A knock at the door cut him off.

‘Excuse me, Sheriff,’ a female deputy said from the door. ‘there’s someone on the phone who seems pretty insistent on talking to you. Line two.’

‘Thank you.’ He held a finger up to Stiles, telling him to wait while he picked up the phone. ‘Hello, this is Sheriff Stilinski speaking……Ok……Right, what time was this?........Yes……..I see. Did you by any chance get the officer’s name?.......I see.’ The Sheriff turned to Stiles with a hard look that sent Stiles’ stomach plummeting to the floor. ‘Not to worry, Mr Hamilton. You have no need to be suspicious.’

Stiles thought about trying to sneak out while his father continued trying to convince Robert that there was no reason to be alarmed that a so called officer, out of uniform, had turned up on his doorstep asking questions about smelling solvents on the night he was shot. But before he could summon the courage to try, his father put down the phone with a slam and pinned Stiles with a look he had unfortunately seen a few too many times.

‘So…Let me explain-’

‘I have had _enough_ of your explanations, Stiles. I have just about had enough of _everything_.’ He stood up and rounded the table. He held out a hand. ‘Give it to me.’

‘Wha-’

‘Give me the badge, Stiles!’

Stiles swallowed hard as he reached into his pocket and held out the badge. The Sheriff fixed him with a gaze, as if he had been hoping he was wrong and that Stiles hadn’t really impersonated an officer and conducted a fake police interview.

‘Dad…I-’

The Sheriff snatched the badge and moved back to his seat.

‘I thought we were past this kind of behaviour. You were keeping to yourself, doing your school work and seeing your friends.’ His voice was surprisingly soft but Stiles knew it was far worse than shouting. He knew it meant that his father was exhausted. He couldn’t take much more. Stiles felt guilt squirm its way around every limb. He knew he’d been lying to his dad more than he should have. Every time he’d gone to see Derek, he had claimed to be with friends. He had managed to keep out of trouble for so long because Derek had been there as a wonderful, yet illegal, distraction that he knew his father would not approve of.

‘I’m trying. I just can’t sit here and do nothing! Derek could have died, Dad.’

‘He’s a werewolf! He got shot and then healed almost instantly.’

‘That’s not the point! Someone is out to get us, I’m sure of it. They’re just taking their time to reveal themselves and I need to figure out who they are before they start using weapons that can actually hurt one of my friends.’

‘Well, Sanchez isn’t behind this.’

‘He might be!’

‘No, he’s not. And do you want to know how I know that?’ Stiles said nothing. He could practically see his father’s pulse quicken, his blood pressure rising. ‘I was the one who interviewed Mr Hamilton. I was the one to oversee his statement. Sanchez hadn’t even joined the station yet. So if you’re going to start pointing fingers, point them at me.’

Stiles opened his mouth his surprise.

‘So you changed the statement.’

The Sheriff sat back from where he had been leaning forward against the desk.

‘No. Not that I recall. But it’s possible that Hamilton made a mistake and asked to edit his statement. I wasn’t with him during the entire process so it’s possible something slipped past me without notice.’

‘But Sanchez had access to the documents once he got here. Once you handed the case over to him, he had every opportunity to edit the reports.’

The Sheriff let his head fall back. The energy was visibly draining from him.

‘Stiles, look, I know you want to figure this all out and be the hero but you can’t just turn on my deputies when you run into a dead end.’

‘I’m not-’

‘You’re clutching at straws, Stiles! Sanchez is a brilliant deputy and he’s been juggling several cases for me. I don’t want to hear any more accusations about him. D’you hear me?’ Stiles had to bite his tongue from snapping a retort. ‘Do. You. _Hear_. Me?’ His dad punched out each word.

‘Yes.’ Stiles hissed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Coming up:  
> We learn more about the hostage situation while Derek becomes more terrified yet more comfortable with his feelings at the same time.


	31. Home Comforts

He couldn’t see.

He couldn’t see anything beyond the hazy brown that covered his eyes.

His heart began to thunder in his chest at the realisation that he also couldn’t move. He tried to kick his legs out but they refused to move. His hands equally immobilised. He tried moving his head and, with immense effort, managed to turn it to the left, away from where he was resting against a hard surface.

He was lying down. On his right side. And he couldn’t see properly or move his body.

He tried to calm himself down and closed his eyes. He tried to focus on different body parts to determine why he couldn’t move. If he were bound, he’d be able to feel rope or chains. He couldn’t feel anything other than the hard floor against his cheek and the rough scratchy material around his head. He could only determine that he’d been paralysed somehow and he felt the burn of tears spill over his cheeks.

He couldn’t remember how he got to where he was or even where that was. He tried to think back to where he’d last been. He remembered leaving Beacon Hills after Aiden was killed by the Nogitsune and the Oni and he remembered travelling through California. He’d met another pack and stayed with them for a while before moving on again, seeking somewhere that might feel like home. But he couldn’t remember when he was brought here, wherever that may be.

He lay there, thinking over his options for an immeasurable length of time. At one point, he tried to speak, to see if he had use of his throat but found only a harsh wheeze escape his lips.

He couldn’t even cry out for help.

As time passed, he fell in and out of sleep. He woke having no idea how long he’d been asleep and with no indication of the time of day. His vision had begun to clear at some point. He had woken to a more detailed image of the material masking his face. He could see it was littered with small holes that let in a small amount of light. Against his skin it was rough and felt like hessian cloth.

Sometime after that, he realised to great elation, albeit silent in his throat, that he could feel his fingers. His elation soon lessened, however, when the feeling in his right hand moved further up his arm and he realised that he was lying on it at an odd angle. It soon became painful and the blood was not reaching his fingers properly. His other limbs seemed to wake up shortly after but only to the extent that he could feel them. He was still far too weak to move.

As he continued to fall asleep, he had little idea as to whether or not there was anyone else about. If there were, they never said a word and if anyone had come in at any point he must have been asleep. He just prayed that he could regain movement before whoever it was that took him realised he had woken up.

What he assumed must have been a day or so after he had woken, he realised how thirsty he was. His mouth was dry and his throat had closed in on itself. The flesh inside was stuck together and painful. He swallowed as best as he could which alleviated some of the discomfort. But not for long. He knew he needed water and soon. His body may be able to heal itself but he still needed water to function on any level, basic or supernatural.

With a lack of food or water, his vision began to haze again. He found it difficult to stay awake even though his body was more awake than ever. He could move his fingers and his toes and eventually bend his knees. And still, no one seemed to notice.

It wasn’t until he was at a point where he was sure death must be coming soon, his entire body craving even a single drop of water, that he had any indication that there was someone else in there with him.

He had managed to roll himself onto his back when the feeling returned to his arms enough to push himself over. He had groaned as his body weight lifted from his arm and the blood began to seep back into the blood vessels. The pain was horrendous and even his supernatural healing couldn’t work fast enough to stop it. His groan had elicited a response from whoever it was he was sharing a room with.

‘Hello?’ His heart leapt in his chest. ‘Hello, can you hear me?’ He tried to reply but only managed a rasp. It was enough. ‘You can, can’t you? Oh my god. You’re alive. I thought you might be dead.’

Whoever it was sounded ecstatic at this revelation, talking with speed. He summoned all his strength to speak.

‘…wa-…’

‘What?’

‘…wat-‘

‘I’m sorry, I can’t understand.’ She sounded a little afraid.

He tried his best to swallow, to allow enough moisture down his parched through to utter the only word he could think of in that moment. The only thing he needed.

‘…water…’

‘Water?’

He groaned. Yes, yes water!

‘Water! Water. Ok, ok. Hang on…’ He could hear movement, a rustling and the sound of metal hitting a hard floor. ‘Ok, I have some but…fuck. I don’t know how to get it to you. I’m chained to the wall. Can you move?’

He groaned again. He could just about move his arms but not his legs. There was no way he could stand to get to her or the water. He would have cried had he any water in his body to weep.

‘Wait, I think I can reach if I push the cup over with my foot.’ More rustling and chains. ‘You’re about five feet away from me but if I stretch out I can probably get the water to where your hand is. Can you move the sheet away from your hand?’

He didn’t know which hand she meant but from his sensitive hearing he thought the sound might have been coming a little more from his left. He moved his arm out along the floor until he felt the roughness of the material end.

He groaned, trying to asking if he was right.

‘That’s it! Ok, just keep still and wait until you can feel the cup. Don’t knock it or the water will spill.’

He tried to nod but it was pointless. He just waited and listened. He could hear her strain as he assumed she was stretching herself out across the floor from where she was tethered to the wall. His heart began to beat in his chest painfully, the anticipation of water waking up his body in a last effort to save himself. He flexed his fingers to try and reach out too, trying to help her reach him.

His heart almost stopped when he felt the cool metal against his fingertips. He let out a dry sob and carefully wrapped his fingers around it.

‘Ok, don’t spill it. Just slowly drag it against the floor.’

He bent his elbow, pulling the cup closer to himself. He felt his hand disappear beneath the cloth again. A few drops spilt over the rim of the cup and he mourned the loss. But the thought of any water at all had his heart hammering again. The only problem now was figuring out how to get it to his lips. He could just about lift his head but not enough to meet his hand. Instead, he rolled slowly onto his left side and slid the cup right up to his face. He could see the metal cup, more like an old tin can, water rippling beautifully. He bent his head down and felt the cool touch of the water against his cracked lips. It was bliss.

He sucked up as much as he could, trying to lift the cup up to get the rest. He spilt a lot but was relieved by the small amount he managed to get into his mouth. The burning of his throat eased a little. He wanted to thank her, whoever she was, but his voice was still too weak. He just hoped he would live long enough to thank his saviour before he died. She had given him the beginning of a second chance, after all.

xxx

Saturday, 14th March

Derek hadn’t seen Stiles in almost a week. He hadn’t seen him in almost a week and Derek was incredibly irritable as a result. They had texted a few times but Stiles seemed preoccupied and had turned down the offer of coming over twice already. Derek didn’t dare ask again. He refused to look that pathetic and needy.

But he _was_ needy.

He needed Stiles and he needed him now.

Since they had spent the night together on Sunday, Stiles only just making it to school on time the next day, Derek had been plagued by dark thoughts, more than usual. The dream of Laura he had that night had kick started a barrage of old memories that came flooding back to him during all hours of the day and kept him awake at night. He thought of how much he missed his family, how much he wanted to undo everything that had happened. But even more than that, he thought of Paige. Out of all the pain he had caused those he loved, Paige’s death scarred him the deepest. He had physically taken her life and held her as it seeped from her beautiful body.

Throughout the week without Stiles, Derek found himself thinking of Paige more than he had in years. He thought mostly about the way she had made him feel. The stupid, warm, overwhelming feeling of a new love. His first love. His only love. He had never loved Kate. Their relationship had been purely about sex. After Paige’s death, he hadn’t been able to channel his emotions in a healthy way as Laura had tried to show him but instead found the easiest option which later caused the destruction of his entire family. It was only after that that he realised Laura was right and he was able to control his emotions. He controlled them so well that he had forgotten how to express them. He was just thankful he still had Cora, even if she was too busy exploring the world to see him.

Love. It was a strange concept to him now. He had gone so many years without anyone there to love him. No parents or siblings, no lover. All he had was Peter and there was most definitely no love between them. Peter was a hateful man and Derek wished he’d done a better job of killing him. A life without love had come surprisingly easy to him though. After losing everything that ever meant anything to him, he shut himself off from the world. He lived purely out of the instinct to stay alive rather than to enjoy his life. Meeting Scott and his pack had brought some light back into his life but only to the extent that it gave him something to fight for. As a group, they had come across some great hardships and he found that fighting for the sake of others rather than just himself brought back a fraction of the happiness he once felt when he was surrounded by his loving family.

Isaac, Erica and Boyd had also awoken a part of Derek that he thought had been lost forever. He had tried to rebuild his pack and, while they drove him crazy with their irrational teenage hormones, they were _his_ pack. They were kids who needed saving and Derek’s instinct was to do so.

It was the same instinct that pulled him towards Stiles. Watching Stiles come back to himself did something to Derek that he couldn’t explain. It brought back a warmth that had long been absent from his chest. And through watching Stiles regain his confidence and learn to forgive himself, Derek had seemingly opened up his own demons, ones he had buried so deep he thought he might be able to pretend they weren’t there.

And now he realised he needed Stiles maybe more than Stiles had ever needed him.

And Derek knew what that meant.

He was screwed.

To say Derek was relieved when Stiles turned up on his doorstep on Saturday afternoon would have been an understatement. It was almost laughable. He dragged the boy into the room by his shirt, slamming the door shut and devoured him right there. Stiles had seemed a little distracted at first but soon seemed to let go of whatever was bothering him and attacked Derek’s lips with brutal kisses.

Afterwards, Derek pulled his clothes back on and moved to sit on the sofa. Stiles followed him and cautiously sat next to him, a safe distance between them. Derek could feel Stiles’ confused gazed lingering on him. He knew he was giving mixed signals, had been for weeks, but he needed to separate the need they had for one another physically and the strange new friendship they had started. He supposed he was almost like a guidance counsellor to Stiles but instead of guiding him to something productive, he spent most of his time guiding him to Derek’s bed. It was harder to separate the two than he had first anticipated.

He noticed quickly that Stiles was tense, even after having his brains sucked out of him through his dick. He also hadn’t spoken since he arrived, apart from the usual cries of ‘more’, ‘harder’ and ‘fuck me’.

Something was wrong.

‘What’s up?’ he asked, expressing an air of nonchalance as he reached for a book he’d left on the armrest.

‘Nothing.’ Stiles’ voice was quiet. Derek glanced at him and realised he looked tired. He looked more like he had when they first started sleeping together than he had in weeks.

‘Well, that’s a load of shit, so just spill.’

Stiles sighed but it seemed to be enough to get him to talk.

‘I told Scott and Lydia that I would visit Allison tomorrow. She’s back home and wants to see me.’

‘You gonna go?’ Derek looked to him from the corner of his eye. He didn’t want to show too much interest in case it scared the boy off. He was still very delicate when it came to Allison.

‘Yes.’

Derek’s chest tightened with what he assumed must be pride. It was disgusting. He was proud that Stiles was finally taking the step he’d been afraid of all these months. He needed to stop letting his emotions get out of hand.

Derek needed to get a grip.

‘Good.’ he said shortly. Stiles didn’t look any more at ease. ‘Something else the matter?’

Stiles shifted in his seat and sat back.

‘My dad. We had a huge fight on Wednesday and he’s still not speaking to me much.’

‘What was it about?’

‘The case. He thinks I’ve taken it too far, that I’m jumping to conclusions.’

Derek thought back to when he, too, felt the same way. Stiles had laid out a mass of paperwork on the coffee table right in front of them now and prattled on about hunters and people who had been shot with silver bullets over the whole of America. Derek had no idea where he stood in it all now. He didn’t know if he should trust Stiles’ judgement considering the number of times he’d saved them all before, or question his sanity considering the emotional strain he’d been under for the last four months since the Nogitsune first possessed him.

‘What did you do?’

‘I might have possibly taken my dad’s old badge and interviewed one of the guys who got shot to ask him about solvents.’

Derek would have laughed. He would have rolled his eyes and told Stiles he was insane but the look on Stiles’ face was so bleak he found he couldn’t.

‘Oh.’ he said instead.

‘Yeah.’ Stiles rubbed his face with his hands. ‘I think he thinks I’m losing my mind. Maybe I am.’

‘I think that’s a little extreme. You’re just stressed.’

‘Well, of course I am. I’m trying to prevent anyone from dying and not doing a very good job.’

‘Stiles, it’s not your responsibility to save everyone.’

Derek was pretty sure he wasn’t able to convince him as Stiles didn’t reply. Instead, he curled into the sofa, legs coming up under his chin and he closed his eyes. Derek said nothing and could tell he’d fallen asleep when his breathing evened out.

Derek definitely did not watch him sleep.

An hour later, Derek looked up from the stove when he heard the sound of the front door opening. He turned off the hob where he had a pan of mince sizzling and went downstairs where he found Isaac standing over the sofa, watching Stiles sleep with a raised brow. His bad was slung over his shoulder, a wet umbrella hanging from one hand. Derek hadn’t even realised it was raining. His mind was a little distracted.

‘You know it stinks of sex in here, right?’

Derek resisted rolling his eyes – he’d really been doing it too much recently, thanks to Stiles – and moved to look at Stiles who was still deep in sleep. He could only guess he hadn’t been getting much at home over the last few days.

‘How was Allison?’

Isaac immediately looked up from Stiles’ sleeping form and smiled.

‘She’s great. She’s all tucked up in bed at home. She’s so happy to be back.’ Derek gave a soft smile, so small you’d miss it but he knew Isaac knew him well enough now to catch it. ‘She keeps asking after Stiles though.’

‘So I’ve heard.’ Derek straightened the sofa cushion he’d been sat on earlier. ‘He’s going to see her tomorrow.’

Isaac nodded.

‘That’s good. Hopefully it’ll give them both peace of mind.’

‘Both of them?’

Isaac nodded.

‘She’s worried about him. She thinks he blames himself for what happened and that he can’t bear to see her because of it.’

Derek raised a brow this time.

‘Isn’t that exactly it?’

‘Pretty much but everyone has been trying to convince her otherwise. Why should she feel guilty for almost dying?’

‘I don’t think Stiles should feel guilty either.’

Isaac looked down to Stiles again for a moment before giving a short nod.

Derek ushered Isaac upstairs where he was making dinner. When he was gone, Derek perched on the edge of the sofa and rested a hand on Stiles’ arm, gently shaking him awake.

Stiles groaned and rolled away from his touch.

‘Five more minutes.’

Derek couldn’t help smirking.

‘You’re five minutes are already up.’

Stiles reacted differently at the realisation that it was Derek rather than his father waking him. He rolled onto his back and gave Derek a sleepy smile.

‘Hi.’

‘Hello.’

Derek watched him for a second. His hair was ruffled from sleep, as were his clothes. His eyes were half lidded but the dark circles under them seemed to have lessened. Derek thought he would probably regret it later but he leant forward and pressed his lips softly against Stiles’. Stiles barely moved against him but just enough to hold their lips together a fraction longer than Derek intended.

It didn’t take much persuasion to convince Stiles to stay for dinner. He was hesitant about hanging around Isaac when he knew about their “arrangement” but Derek guessed the alterative of eating dinner alone while his father was working was even less appealing.

Derek served up bolognaise shortly after getting Stiles off the couch. They all sat at the kitchen counter which was awkward. Stiles said almost nothing while Isaac talked idly about Allison. Derek wondered if it might be causing a reaction in Stiles but apart from a jump in heart rate a few times when she was mentioned, he seemed ok. After dinner, they helped Derek clear the surfaces of dirty plates and cooking utensils, placing them in the dishwasher. Derek sighed as he had to reload it once they had finished. Everything was in the wrong place and wouldn’t wash properly. He smiled when Stiles nudged into him playfully at his exasperation over it.

Not long after that, Stiles decided to go home. He said he needed to get back before his dad began to worry. They may be in a fight but it didn’t stop the Sheriff from being a father. Derek walked him down to the front door.

Stiles zipped his hoodie up, pulling the hood over his head. It was still raining outside.

‘You gonna be ok?’ Derek asked softly, his attempts to distance himself dissolving. Stiles nodded, looking up at him with round eyes from beneath the rim of his hood.

‘Yes.’

His voice was even softer than Derek’s. Derek lifted a hand and cupped Stiles’ cheek.

‘Everything will sort itself out. I promise.’

Stiles closed his eyes and leant into the touch. Derek dipped his head and met their lips in the same gentle kiss he had earlier. Stiles parted his own and let Derek sweep his tongue inside. It was brief but warming. Derek pulled away, hand lingering on Stiles’ soft skin.

‘Bye.’

‘Bye, Stiles.’

Derek watched Stiles walk to the stairs and continued to watch until he disappeared from view. Derek shut the door and locked it before turning back to the stairs where Isaac stood watching, leaning over the banister with the curl of a grin on his lips.

Derek didn’t even bother telling him to shut up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Coming up:  
> Stiles finally has to face his fear.


	32. On the Mend

Sunday, 15th March

‘You sure you’re ready for this?’

Stiles looked up at Scott’s words. His voice seemed distant, as if he were across a large room rather than in the passenger seat of his jeep.

He felt a small hand on his shoulder.

‘I know you can do this.’

Stiles rested his own hand on Lydia’s.

‘Thanks guys. I’m ok.’

Scott and Lydia shared a look that Stiles didn’t miss and they all got out of the car. Stiles felt his heart hammering in his chest as they approached the apartment building. He could see Allison’s bedroom window from where they had parked the car across the road. Knowing she was inside made him anxious.

His greatest fear was that the moment she saw him, she would remember all the terrible things he did and tell him how much she hated him. She would see only the demon inside and banish him from her life. His chest ached at the thought. He wasn’t ready to lose her.

Scott babbled as they walked into the lobby and all the way up in the lift. Stiles knew he was trying to reassure Stiles of how excited Allison was to see him but he tuned him out. His own thoughts were too much to process as they were without having Scott on top of them. He just wanted silence. He wanted the silence and peace that only Derek could instil within him.

When the lift dinged and the doors drew open, Lydia stepped out first, taking Stiles by the hand and pulling him out. Scott walked up behind him and they made their way to the Argent’s front door.

Stiles knew there was no escaping it now.

Lydia knocked and they waited for all of ten seconds before Chris Argent opened the door. He smiled at them all but his heavy set eyes spoke the truth. He was still afraid of losing his daughter.

He welcomed them inside, shaking Scott’s hand and clapping Stiles on the arm.

‘It’s good to see you, Stiles. I hope you’re doing ok?’ Stiles could only nod, wondering how he deserved such a kind greeting from the father of the girl whose life he almost destroyed. ‘Come through.’ Chris led them through the apartment to the bedrooms, stopping outside Allison’s. He knocked softly. Stiles’ heart skipped a beat at the sound of Allison’s voice.

‘Come in!’

Chris turned the handle and pushed open the door.

Stiles felt his mouth go dry.

Allison was sat in bed, the duvet draped across her lap as she leant against the headboard, a magazine in one hand, an apple in the other. If Stiles didn’t know better, had he not seen her body on the floor, blood gushing, skin pale and sickly, he would have sworn she had never been in the hospital at all. It was only when he was pressed into the room by Scott’s gentle hand on his lower back that he noticed her sallow cheeks and slightly limp hair. She was obviously still recovering.

‘Stiles!’ she exclaimed, pushing the duvet back and trying to get out of bed. Isaac, who Stiles only just noticed was sat in a chair next to her bed, held a hand up, stopping her in her tracks. But the smile on her face never faltered. She reached a hand out to him, magazine abandoned on the bed, apple handed to Isaac.

Stiles’ eyes burned with tears but his lips pulled up in a smile.

‘Hi, Allison.’

His voice was hardly audible but he knew she had heard him. She settled back onto the bed, hand still out reached to him. He cautiously walked over, letting her take his arm and pull him gently onto the bed. Stiles perched on the edge, turning himself to face her.

‘I’m so glad you’re here, that you’re ok. The last time I saw you…’ She trailed off and tears appeared in her own eyes. ‘I was so worried I’d never see you again. I’m so happy you’re ok.’ She reached forward and threw her arms around him. ‘I’m so sorry for what happened to you.’ she whispered against his ear.

Stiles was at a loss for words. Shouldn’t he be the one apologising? Wasn’t he the one who should be glad to see Allison alive and well? It was as if he had been the one in a coma.

‘I-I don’t understand.’ he said quietly. She gave him a sad smile.

‘Would you guys mind giving us a minute alone?’

The rest of the room nodded and filed out. Isaac seemed hesitant to leave her but did so when she cast a pleading look in his direction.

‘I’ll get you another cup of tea.’

Alisson nodded and smiled in thanks. When they were all gone, she shifted in bed until her left foot was hanging over the edge like Stiles’ were. She took both of his hands in hers and turned her head to try and meet his eyes.

‘Hey, look at me.’ Stiles did so, eyes darting, afraid to look at her. ‘I truly am sorry.’

‘For what?’ Stiles’ voice was dry and raspy as he fought to keep his emotions in check. ‘I almost killed you.’

‘What? Stiles, you did nothing to me. That wasn’t you. None of it was you. You must know that.’

‘It felt like me.’

‘Well, it wasn’t. You know who you are Stiles and you know that you could never hurt anyone. You’re far too sweet.’

Stiles shook his head, a tear spilling over.

‘Stop. Please, I don’t deserve any of this.’

‘Any of what? The truth? Stiles, I don’t blame you for anything that happened.’ Allison tightened her grip on his hands, shaking them a little, as if she were trying to shake some sense into him. ‘I don’t blame you for my coma. I knew the risk of getting involved, in fighting the Nogitsune and the Oni and I did it anyway.’ She reached up and cupped Stiles’ cheek, much as Derek had the night before, forcing him to look right at her. She was crying too. ‘And I would do it again to help save you. You mean too much to me not to.’

Stiles chocked on a sob, tears running down his cheeks. He didn’t try to fight them back anymore but let them free. He couldn’t find the words though, only tears.

‘Stiles, you need to realise something.’ she continued when Stiles was unable to speak. ‘I felt nothing. I felt nothing at all. No pain, no suffering. I don’t have any recollection of being in a coma. It was like going to sleep and waking up again. I might have a little trouble with mobility for a while but other than that, I’m fine. All this time you’ve been beating yourself up over this when in reality you were the one suffering, not me. You’ve been punishing yourself when what you really need to do is forgive yourself.’

‘I don’t think I can.’

‘You will. One day you’ll see things the way I see them, the way we all do, and you’ll know that you weren’t to blame for any of this.’

Stiles continued to cry, his tears falling silent as Allison pulled him against her. He rested his head on her shoulder, breathing in her sweet, warm scent. He realised more than ever why Scott loved her so much, even if they were no longer together. He could see what it was that had drawn him to her. He might not see her in the same way as Scott had, the attraction was not there despite her beauty, but he felt an immeasurable amount of love for her as she let him cry on her shoulder. She was forgiving, too forgiving, and it pained Stiles deep in his chest but also lifted a weight from him that made him feel lightheaded. And yet, at the same time, he felt more grounded than he had in months.

They sat together in silence for a long time. Eventually, Allison started asking him about school and his dad, about lacrosse and all things normal. They chatted for almost an hour, Stiles feeling emotionally exhausted but open to her questions, happy to be having such an inane conversation with her when only a few weeks ago he had been sure he would never speak to her again.

They were interrupted by a knock on the door. Isaac came in with a mug of tea.

‘Hey, sorry to interrupt.’ He walked to the bedside table and placed the mug on a coaster. ‘The others are downstairs. Should I tell them they can come up?’

Allison looked to Stiles for a moment and nodded.

‘Sure, I actually want to speak to everyone together.’

Stiles watched as the room refilled with people. It wasn’t the entire group but a fair representation. Lydia sat on the duvet next to Allison while Scott rested his hands on the frame at the end of the bed.

‘It’s kind of weird being all back together again.’ Scott muttered. ‘But minus Kira and Danny.’

‘Yeah. A good weird though.’ Isaac said with a soft smile at Allison.

They all nodded in agreement.

‘I’m so happy to have you guys here. Thank you for coming to see me. I’m so bored sitting in bed all day.’

They laughed, even Stiles although his throat was still a little sticky from the tears.

‘Don’t worry, I’ll come over every night to hang out and I’ll bring over some girly stuff to do this weekend, yeah?’ Lydia offered, already toying with Allison’s hair.

‘Sounds awesome.’ Allison smiled. ‘But I actually had something else in mind.’ Everyone looked at her, intrigued. ‘I know I haven’t been out of the hospital for very long, but my doctor has given me the ok to get out of the house. So, seeing as spring break starts at the end of this coming week, I was wondering if you guys would like to go away for the weekend. I thought maybe we could go to the beach and you can all catch me up on what I’ve missed.’ Allison looked around the room. ‘Any thoughts?’

‘A weekend at the beach?’ Lydia asked. ‘Are you kidding me? Yes! I totally need to get a tan.’ She held out her arms to inspect them. Allison laughed.

‘Great! Boys?’

Isaac nodded and Scott said he’d love to, squeezing Allison’s outstretched leg from over the duvet.

She looked to Stiles, waiting patiently. The look she gave him was one of hopeful anticipation but he could see she was trying not to pressure him.

There was no way he could say “no”.

‘Sounds great.’ he said with a genuine smile.

xxx

Saturday, 21st March

The beach. Allison Argent had invited him to the beach.

Derek scratched his head, reading the text message over several times, just to make sure he had gotten that right.

The beach.

Derek didn’t do beaches, at least not since his family had died. It was something they used to do often. He loved running up and down the sand, alongside the water. Laura preferred to sunbathe but Cora was always up for charging through the shallow water, allowing Derek to chase her. Derek remembered laughing when she would squeal loudly as he caught her, tossing her up into the air and catching her again before running deeper into the water and throwing her in.

Derek shook the memory away. It was a pleasant one but one that would surely lead to darker thoughts that he shouldn’t indulge in.

Allison assured him that the rest of the group would be going and that they would find a hotel for a couple of nights.

Derek wasn’t sure why she thought that would reassure him. He was hardly friends with any of them. They were all loud, irritating teenagers who were incapable of controlling their hormonal emotions. He supposed he and Isaac were close and Scott was one of the most trustworthy people Derek had ever met. And then there was Stiles.

Stiles was something else entirely.

Derek decided he would pass on the offer. It sounded like a fun idea for a group of teens – swimming, sun bathing, sports, dinner – but not for a man in his twenties. Even if it would mean spending more time with Stiles and seeing him in his board shorts.

xxx

Saturday, 21st March

Derek was therefore surprised when, the following Saturday morning, he was loading his car with suitcases, while Isaac programmed the GPS in the front of the car.

Stiles had come over on Tuesday evening while Isaac was still visiting Allison and had practically begged him to join them. He had been hesitant about going himself and seemed to need Derek there as his anchor. Derek knew the feeling of being out of ones’ depth and it seemed Stiles being alone with his entire friendship group, after spending so long trying to avoid them, was a little bit too daunting for him.

That’s why he agreed to go; because Stiles needed him there, not because he had spent the previous night in a permanent state of arousal due to endless dreams of Stiles in a pair of wet beach shorts. Definitely not.

He also found it hard to refuse Allison’s invitation when she called him Wednesday morning to tell him once again how grateful she was that he had come to visit her. It seemed their previous hatred of one another, stemming from her mother’s death, had been left in the past. They were finally starting to see one another for who they were outside of the supernatural barriers that separated them as werewolf and hunter. During the call, she reminded him of her offer to join them and told him how much they all wanted him to join them. He wasn’t sure that was strictly true; Kira, Lydia and Danny still didn’t know him all that well. He knew he wasn’t the friendliest person and wouldn’t have been surprised to find that they were afraid of him. But he had accepted her offer, much to her surprise, and had even offered his car to drive them. Stiles, it seemed, had done the same and they were splitting the group up between the two vehicles.

Derek and Isaac had driven to Allison’s house that afternoon and were meeting Stiles and the others on the outskirts of town.  Chris hadn’t been overly pleased with the plan and hovered close by Allison’s side as she got her things ready, bringing them down to the car. He even insisted on buckling her into the back of the car like a child and tried a final time at convincing her not to go or to at least let him come with them. But Allison assured him that she would be fine. She was going to the beach to relax and rest with her friends, half of whom were super strong werewolves who could easily protect her. She also had her wheelchair, provided by the hospital, to save her from walking long distances while her muscles were still gaining strength. Derek was in the process of folding said wheelchair up and putting in the boot of his car when Chris rounded the car and placed a hand on his arm.

‘Look after my girl, Derek.’

‘I will.’

Chris looked a little pained but nodded and, a few minutes later, waved them off.

It only took them a few minutes to get out of town and they pulled up behind Stiles’ banged up jeep which made Derek’s Toyota look like the crown jewels in comparison.

Lydia, Scott, Danny and Kira were with him. Lydia left the group as Derek pulled up and climbed into the back seat with Allison, Isaac sat up front. Derek didn’t move from the drivers’ seat, letting Stiles come to him while the others greeted Allison before getting into Stiles’ jeep.

‘Hey.’ Stiles held up a hand in awkward greeting. His eyes scanned Derek’s face before darting to Isaac and Allison. ‘So, you want to follow me? I don’t mind following you, if you’d rather be up front.’

Derek shook his head.

‘I’m happy coming up behind.’

Derek didn’t miss Isaac’s snort, making a mental note to smack him round the back of the head later.

Stiles’ eyes darted once again before he nodded and walked back to his car. Derek watched him start up the jeep and pull away from the side of the road. He followed, watching Stiles through the jeep’s review mirror. Their eyes met briefly.

Derek’s heart did not skip. If it did, it was obviously a minor heart attack. Nothing more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Coming up:  
> A trip to the beach! Let's hope they remember their spades and buckets! Hehe!


	33. Hold My Hand

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello.  
> This is a long one. Some beach fun :)

Saturday, 21st March

It was relatively easy to forget his nerves during the long drive to the beach. Scott, Kira and Danny created a lively hum of conversation over the rumble of the engine and Stiles felt comforted by the enclosed space of his beloved jeep. He was still anxious to be spending extended time with the group, especially Allison, but so far he was feeling pretty good. He was even able to get excited about sharing a room with Scott after spending so long apart recently.

‘I’m so excited.’ Kira smiled animatedly as she watched the passing scenery. ‘I haven’t been to the beach in so long!’

‘Me neither.’ Scott chimed. ‘I can’t wait to swim.’

‘Just don’t let anything swim up your junk.’ Danny warned, eyes fixed on his phone where Stiles could see he was messaging Jackson who was still living in London. Stiles was suddenly thankful that he was on a different continent. Dealing with the aftermath of the Nogitsune would have been a whole lot harder with Jackson and his insensitive, arrogant remarks flying left, right and centre.

‘What?!’

‘I feel like that’s only something you need to worry about when swimming up the Amazon.’ Stiles added with a smirk. ‘You shouldn’t pee in it cause all sorts of shit can swim up your piss stream and into your urethra.’

‘Oh my god, gross.’

‘Can we please talk about something else?’

‘Yeah, I know I like dick but I don’t want to think about McCall’s.’ Danny made a gagging sound until Scott shoved him on the arm.

‘Alright, alright, children, no tomfoolery in my jeep. She’s fragile, at best.’

‘She’s a pile of jun-’

Stiles shot Danny a look that made him hold his tongue.

‘Anyway, back to what we were discussing,’ Stiles began, steering the conversation away from dick and the dilapidated state of his beloved jeep. ‘Scott and I are definitely gonna do some serious sun tanning. Isn't that right, roomie?' Stiles glanced at Scott through his rear-view mirror with a grin.

'Umm...well.'

Stiles’ grin fell and he shot Scott a look.

'“Umm well” what?'

'Well...' Scott turned to Kira with the smile of a love sick puppy.

'Well, what?' Stiles asked impatiently, snatching looks at them through his mirror, eyes darting from them to the road and back again.

'We kinda wanted to room together.' Kira finished for Scott. 'I hope that's ok?'

'We just don't get much privacy at home to, you know...'

Stiles sighed.

'Yes, I am aware of "you know". But who the hell am I rooming with then? Better not be fucking Isaac. You know we don't get along.'

'I thought things were getting better between you too.' Danny asked from beside him in the passenger seat. His addition to the group was still new and Stiles was sure Danny only just about tolerated his presence.

'Yeah, maybe...' Stiles said, strained. 'He just knows how to push my buttons is all.' His general dislike of Isaac wasn't the only reason for his reservations in sharing a room with the werewolf. He was also aware of Stiles and Derek's "relationship" and sharing a room would provide a situation in which Isaac may feel the need to discuss it and Stiles had little intention of doing so. Stiles and Derek had an arrangement, although mostly unspoken, not to complicate things right now, and they would keep it that way. Danny paused their conversation to give Stiles some directions. 'Thanks. Alright, so who am I rooming with? Danny?'

'Well, we thought Danny could room with Lydia.' Kira replied happily, clearly trying to trick Stiles into believing the outcome would benefit all.

'Yeah, yeah,' Scott said, jumping on the happy bandwagon. 'and then Isaac can room with Allison cause they'll probably want some time together.'

'And then Scott and I will share.' Kira said a little hesitantly. Stiles caught her giving Scott a look.

'Umm, yeah. And then you can share with...'

Stiles didn't catch the end of Scott's incoherent mumbling.

'Sorry, what was that?'

Scott looked to Kira nervously.

'We thought that you could room with...Derek...'

'I see.' Stiles said quietly. The prospect of sharing with Derek was hardly upsetting - Stiles had a good idea as to how the weekend would play out with Derek as his roommate - but the realisation that he had been an afterthought in the groups' rooming arrangements stung a little. His insecurities had his mind racing with thoughts of the Nogitsune and he couldn't help but wonder if he was still unforgiven.

He shook his head; he was being silly.

'Is that a “no”?' Kira asked around his headrest. She has clearly seen the shake of his head and taken it to be a refusal to share with Derek.

'Hmm? Oh, no. It's fine. I'll share with Mr Grumps. But you guys owe me.' he said, pointing a finger at them through the rear-view mirror.

'Sure thing, buddy.' Scott said, patting his shoulder.

Stiles looked into his mirror again, only this time to watch Derek's car speeding along behind them. He could see Derek's face, half hidden behind dark shades, and wondered if he knew of the arrangement.

xxx

Derek’s only reaction to the rooming arrangements was a roll of the eyes. Danny patted him on the arm in what Stiles supposed was condolence. Stiles scoffed. Danny would be lucky to share a room with Stiles.

The woman behind the desk handed out four key cards, one for each room. Each pair had to share a key. Stiles reached out for theirs but Derek snatched it from his grasp.

'I better hold onto this.'

'Hey! I'm perfectly capable of looking after a key.'

Stiles continued to argue as Derek led the way to their room, although he knew in all seriousness that the key would be in better hands with Derek. Stiles was prone to losing things, it had to be said. Derek stopped outside their room, the others following close behind and stopping further along the corridor at their own doors.

'Shall we all meet downstairs in like an hour? We can all shower and unpack first.' Scott suggested to a chorus of agreement.

Derek slotted the card into the door and Stiles could hear the mechanism whir. Derek pushed on the door handle and moved into the room, Stiles following, glancing at Scott as he moved into his own room two doors down. Scott gave him a sympathetic smile, feeling guilty for palming him off on Derek. Stiles smiled half-heartedly back but did it mostly for effect. He had to hide the true nature of his and Derek’s relationship. Stiles slipped through the closing door, using his duffle bag to hold it open.

The room was pretty standard with two single beds separated by a bedside table. The beds were nicely decorated with plump cushions which matched the curtains and carpet. There was a small, flat screen TV on the wall and a wardrobe with floor length mirrors on the doors. There was a door to Stiles' left where the bathroom was and a set of sliding doors directly ahead, across the room from him, which led to the balcony.

'Nice.' Stiles said, dropping his bag onto the nearest bed.

'You want that one?' Derek asked. Stiles looked up from gazing around the room. Derek pointed to the bed.

'Oh, sure. I don't mind which.'

Derek nodded and placed his own bag on the other bed, the one closer to the balcony. Derek began to unpack and Stiles followed suit. They argued a little over who got what space in the wardrobe but Derek won, shoving Stiles' things out of the way when he deemed them in the wrong place. Stiles fought back and demanded that Derek be fair but to no avail. However, Stiles thought he caught a hint of a smile on Derek's lips as he shoved Stiles' neatly folded - by his father, obviously - onto the floor and Stiles squawked in protest. Once they had both emptied their bags, putting their toiletries in the bathroom on the shelves provided, Stiles plonked himself down on his bed.

'This is nice, right?'

'It'll do.' Derek shrugged.

'Eugh. You're such a snob, especially for someone who used to live in a burnt down wreck and then an abandoned train carriage.' Stiles realised the severity of his words but Derek seemed unfazed. He sat down on his own bed, placing a book on the bedside table. 'You wanna shower first?' Stiles offered as some kind of condolence.

Derek shrugged again. Stiles huffed. He was a difficult man, regardless of how attractive he was. Stiles stared at his jeans, tight around his plump backside as he walked across the room to the bathroom. Stiles' mouth started to water. Derek stopped at the bathroom door and looked over his shoulder at Stiles who was lying on his bed, propped up on his elbows.

'Close your mouth. You'll catch flies like that.'

Stiles snapped his jaw shut, unaware that it was hanging open, drool accumulating in the corners of his mouth. Derek stepped away from the bathroom door and approached Stiles' bed. He stood at the foot and titled his head to the side, examining Stiles lying there. Stiles swallowed loudly in the heavy silence and then yelped as Derek grabbed him by the ankles and dragged him to the end of the bed where he pulled him up, kissing him thoroughly. Stiles, on his knees, held onto Derek's arms as Derek cupped his face. Clothes soon began to fall to the floor, starting with Stiles' t-shirt. Derek then placed his hands behind Stiles' knees and knocked him onto his back, pulling his jeans off. Stiles laughed. Derek's face was stern. He meant business. He was giving into his urges rather than holding back. It was part of their arrangement. They didn't need to explain themselves or talk about their need for one another. It was purely physical and provided them both with the mental relief they both craved. But it didn't mean they couldn't have fun doing it.

Stiles grabbed at Derek, kissing him soundly, hands running down his back and round to his sides where he tickled the smooth skin. Derek jerked away, scowling half-heartedly. Stiles had found his tickle spot a while ago and used it to his advantage whenever he could.

'Don't.' Derek said sternly, a glint in his eye giving him away. Stiles grinned up at him and kissed him again. Derek reached across to the bedside table, opening the top draw. Without Stiles even noticing, he'd placed a bottle of lube and condoms inside. They didn't very often use condoms due to a lack of necessity. On a few occasions, Derek had put one on without any apparent reason, leading Stiles to wonder if he might have had another recent sexual partner and was being overly cautious about passing anything on to Stiles. Stiles always shook the thought from mind as he found it bubbled up a jealously within him that he didn't want to dwell on. This time, however, Derek ignored the condoms and went straight for the lube. 'Turn around.'

Stiles did as commanded and flipped himself onto his hands and knees. He felt Derek rub his palms over Stiles' arse cheeks, pulling them apart, rolling the rounded flesh in his hands. He held the cheeks wide and dipped his head down, licking slowly from the base of Stiles' balls, all the way up to his lower back. Stiles hummed with pleasure.

'We haven't got too long. Gotta shower and meet the others.'

Derek moved his tongue up Stiles' back, stopping at his shoulder.

'They can wait.' he whispered. Stiles shuddered.

Derek grabbed one of the pillows and hoisted Stiles' hips up off the bed. He placed the pillow beneath him and dropped him down onto it. The pillow propped him up, giving Derek easier access. He went back to work on him, Stiles' toes curling. He felt a heat creeping over him, his cheeks flushed. His mind cleared as Derek pressed inside. He had nothing to think about, nothing to worry about or stress over. He was turning to liquid and the only things he was conscious of was the feeling of Derek’s touch and the warmth in his chest. He chose not to think about the latter for the time being.

xxx

Stiles and Derek managed to be only half an hour late meeting the others. No one seemed to care but Stiles felt the need to explain, claiming that they had fought over who got to shower first when in reality they showered together, hands straying from their task of cleaning themselves. Stiles ignored the way Isaac brushed up against him as they walked out of the hotel, towards the beach, the smirk on his lips not bothering Stiles at all. Nope, not one bit.

They walked along the promenade, Scott pushing Allison in her wheelchair until they came to a ramp that led down to the beach. They chose a suitable spot a little further towards the water and everyone dumped their bags. Towels and beach mats were laid out, sunglasses adorned and sun cream passed around. There was an air of general merriment about the group, apart from Stiles who hovered awkwardly, a little unsure of himself around so many people when he’d been trying his best to avoid them for so long. Derek also appeared to be uncomfortable. He stood with his arms crossed, watching the group, or so Stiles assumed, behind his shades.

‘You know the scary werewolf look doesn’t work when you’re wearing board shorts, right?’

Derek growled lowly in his chest and sat down with his phone on one of the towels Stiles had laid out.

When everyone was settled, and Allison’s chair had been folded away to avoid it from getting too sandy, Lydia took out a set of portable speakers and put on a playlist. It seemed to get everyone in the beach mood as they all lay back and began to soak up the sun.

Stiles joined them but watched Derek from his horizontal position. He was still sat up, arms resting on his knees as he looked out over the water. A light breeze ruffled his hair. He’d taken off his t shirt at least and Stiles was content memorising the lines of Derek’s back muscles. He was thankful then, more than ever before, for the invention of sunglasses as it allowed him to perv over the man without anyone noticing.

It was almost an hour later when a muffled gurgling sound roused Stiles from his light slumber. He sat up on his elbows and looked around the group. Lydia and Allison were sat in sun chairs, chatting idly with Kira who was sat facing them on her towel. Scott was listening in, hands digging in the sand between his legs. Danny was sunning himself, headphones in as he had refused to listen to Lydia’s music and Isaac was sat up, hand on his stomach; the source of the gurgling, it seemed.

‘I don’t know about you guys but I’m starving.’ It was about lunch time, after all. Their early start had gotten them to the beach in good time. Isaac looked up and down the beach. ‘There are food huts down the bottom there.’ They all looked to where Isaac was pointing, down the other end of the beach where the majority of sunbathers were laid out. On the promenade above the bathers were rows of huts and food stands. ‘Anyone wanna come get some food?’

‘Deffo!’ Kira stood, pulling a cap onto her head. She reached out for Scott and pulled him up. ‘I want an ice cream.’

Scott nodded in agreement and the others chorused their interest in getting food. Isaac and Scott helped Allison up and Isaac put his arm around her. They offered her the wheelchair but she insisted on trying to walk all the way.

‘Ok, but someone needs to stay with the stuff.’ Lydia pointed out, finger pushing her sunglasses down her nose as she eyed the group. ‘I’m not leaving my Marc Jacobs beach bag out here to get stolen, just for a greasy hotdog.’

Stiles could hear several hotdog related jokes in his head but found he didn’t have the energy to voice any of them. The sun was already zapping it from him, making him drowsy. He was also feeling a little on edge. Allison, while looking remarkably well, was still weak and was dependant on her wheelchair for long distances. She was all smiles and grateful to be alive but it only made Stiles feel worse for almost killing someone who was so thankful for life.

‘I don’t mind staying.’ he announced. Everyone turned to him. ‘I don’t mind watching the stuff. Derek will keep my company, won’t you?’

Derek nodded and Stiles didn’t miss the way Lydia’s brow raised as she slid her Gucci sunglasses back up to cover her eyes.

They all thanked him and set off down the beach. Stiles called after Scott, asking him to grab him a burger or something and the same for Derek even though he hadn’t asked. Stiles turned to look at him.

‘You know, just in case you get hungry.’

Derek simply wrinkled his nose in distaste. It made Stiles’ chest flutter.

Stiles lay back on his towel, soaking up the hot sunshine, praying he might get a tan to lessen his milk-bottle appearance. He was aware of Derek laying half naked next to him, also enjoying the heat, his fingers only a mere few inches away. He could reach out and touch him if he wanted to. But he knew he shouldn't. Just the smallest feel of Derek's skin beneath his fingertips would send all blood beneath the band of his swimming trunks. They were baggy but not enough to disguise a rising soldier. He rolled onto this front to try and get some sun on his back and hoped it might deter any bulging below. He sighed contently. The hot sun was bliss.

'You should put some sun cream on.' Derek's gruff voice only just reached Stiles ears past the glorious, sun induced haze he'd fallen into.

'Huh?'

'Sun cream. You're gonna burn without it.'

'You're not wearing any.'

'I don't need to.'

Stiles grumbled lowly to himself about the unfairness of Derek's ever healing body. It was the one thing he found appealing about being a werewolf. And maybe the strength. And the hot body.

'Fine. Pass it here.'

Derek tossed him a bottle of factor thirty sun cream and Stiles groaned. It must be Lydia's. As a redhead she was prone to burning. In Stiles' mind it was her one flaw.

'I'll never tan with this.'

'You won't burn either.' Another grumble and Stiles sat up with a frown and was squeezing some cream into his palm and rubbing it into his arms, legs and chest. 'Don't forget your back.'

'Well I can't reach that on my own. You'll have to help me.' This seemed to have an effect on Derek who quickly looked out across the beach. 'What? No one will see.' He handed the bottle back to Derek and turned to face away from him. 'C'mon. This was your idea.'

Derek took another quick glance across the beach but found no one to be within viewing distance. He, too, squeezed some cream into his hand and began rubbing it into Stiles' skin.

'Want me to do your neck too?'

'Yeah, do the lot. I don't wanna look patchy.'

Derek's fingers slid up his spine to his neck and gently rubbed circles into his skin. Stiles had to admit, it was a pleasant feeling. Again, he had to remind himself not to get too excited and tried not to focus on the feel of Derek's firm hands on his naked flesh. The hesitation in Derek's touch had begun to fade and soon he was thoroughly rubbing the cream into Stiles' back. Soon after that, he seemed a little too enthusiastic and Stiles wondered how much sun cream he was using. He was about to ask if Derek was done when the werewolf squirted yet more cream into his palm.

'More? I'm not that pale!'

But as Stiles complained, Derek's hand dipped into his swimming trunks and the cold cream made contact with his genitals. Stiles jumped and let out a small cry.

'Derek, what the hell?!'

Derek looked around them once again but no one was in sight. He wrapped the cream covered hand around Stiles' member and rubbed up and down. The thick cream was slathered all over and squelched at each pump of Derek's fist. Stiles was in shock and couldn't believe how much of a one eighty Derek had taken. He looked out across the beach but there was definitely no one near enough to see what they were doing. Stiles groaned and leant back into Derek's chest. Derek quickened the pace, clearly wanting to make it hard and fast. Stiles didn't need much prompting and with a few hip rolls, and thoughts of Derek on top of him, he was falling over the edge. He jerked upwards as he came and Derek continued to rub up and down, spreading his cum all over Stiles' groin.

'Fuck. That was good.'

Derek said nothing but shook some of the cream off his hand. It landed in a heavy dollop on the sand. The rest of the cream and cum was sticking his fingers together and Stiles watched as he took a handful of sand and rubbed his hands together. The white mess mixed with the sand and balled up, dropping onto the beach. Soon, Derek's hands were clean again.

'Well, I'm glad _you're_ clean. I'm a bloody mess down here.' He pointed to his crotch. Derek stared at the indicated area for a moment before scooping up another handful of sand and silently holding it out to Stiles, expression blank. Derek's attempt at a joke was actually pretty funny but Stiles refused to laugh and instead pushed himself up and waddled to the sea, hoping to wash away the mess before the others returned.

xxx

They spent another couple of hours on the beach before heading back to the hotel to shower again and change. Derek had felt a little uncomfortable sat with the group when he knew they were all a little unsure how to act around him. Apart from Isaac and now Stiles, Derek wouldn’t consider any of them his close friends. Scott was a good kid and Derek would do anything to help him but Derek’s difficulty with trusting people meant he was always keeping people at arm’s length. But he made the most of the good weather and lay in the sun. He even allowed Stiles and Scott to convince him to help them build a massive sand castle which Isaac later destroyed with a Frisbee when he threw it to Danny with such force that Danny threw himself to the ground and the plastic disc flew into the middle of their castle.

When they all decided they had enough sand in enough places to make it uncomfortable, they all headed back to the hotel. The group decided to meet later for dinner but Derek had little interest in sitting with them. He’d have enough teenage excitement for one day.

Stiles followed him to the room and didn’t hesitate to join him in the shower for the second time that day. Once they were both clean and dressed again, Derek settled onto his bed and Stiles did the same. Derek picked up his book as Stiles turned on the TV and they sat in comfortable silence for a while. Stiles didn’t seem to be paying much attention to the screen, instead scrolling on his phone and texting someone.

‘Scott says everyone is meeting downstairs at six. That’s in like twenty minutes.’

‘I’m not going.’

‘Huh?’ Stiles sat up. ‘Why not?’

Derek didn’t miss the pick-up of his heart rate and the edge to his voice.

‘Not in the mood. Probably gonna order room service or something.’

‘Oh.’ Stiles said quietly.

Derek had a feeling he wasn’t too happy about having to spend time with his friends alone and Derek was aware of how dependent Stiles was becoming on him. Their “relationship” had shifted somewhat recently and he was pretty sure they were no longer simply fucking for distraction; Stiles had made that apparent when he kissed Derek in his bedroom with such tenderness, as though he was afraid to break something precious. And Derek couldn’t deny the way his own heart fluttered when Stiles walked in the room or smiled at him like an idiot. But he wasn’t going to think about that. Instead, he would make sure Stiles regained his confidence and became less reliant on Derek being there to figuratively, and often literally, hold his hand.

‘You go. Have fun. I’m just gonna sit here and read.’

He almost had to forcibly push Stiles from the room half an hour later but he eventually conceded and went towards the elevators. Derek went back to his bed and read a few chapters before ordering food for himself and promptly falling asleep after eating. He woke to the sound of Stiles knocking on the door. He grumbled to himself about forgetting to give Stiles the key and wrenched the door open.

‘Hey.’ Stiles greeted him, a little taken aback at Derek’s appearance it seemed. Derek stepped back and looked at himself in the wardrobe mirror. His hair was flat at the back and sticking up at the top, his shirt wrinkled from sleep and his eyes were bleary. ‘You look pretty sexy like that.’

Derek grunted and went to sit on his bed.

‘How was dinner?’

‘It was actually ok.’ Stiles said with a shrug. ‘Would rather have been here with you.’

Derek sighed. Baby steps.

‘What time is it?’

Stiles looked at his phone.

‘Almost nine.’

‘Where’s everyone else? They can’t be in bed yet.’

‘No, Allison was tired though so she and Isaac went back to their room. The others are sat on the deck outside.’

‘Don’t you want to join them?’ Derek asked as Stiles pulled his shoes off and tossed them over his shoulder.

He shook his head.

‘I didn’t want to leave you alone all night.’

‘I’m a big boy, I’ll be ok.’

Stiles ignored him and climbed onto Derek’s lap, lips going to his neck. It only took a few second before Derek felt a rush of pleasure run down to his dick and he wrapped his arms around Stiles, biting behind his ear. Stiles kissed along his jaw and their lips met somewhere in the middle. Derek let Stiles press his tongue into his mouth and Derek sucked on it. His hands moved to Stiles’ neck, holding him firmly as they kissed harder and moved to lie on the bed. Stiles rocked against Derek, rolling his hips and seeking friction. He groaned and bit at Derek’s lip and Derek push back against him, loving the feeling of Stiles’ hot body flush against him. But there were too many clothes and that was something they needed to rectify. Derek pulled at Stiles’ shirt and wrestled it from his body, throwing it onto the floor, followed by his own shirt and Stiles’ jeans. Stiles seemed happy just to rut up against him and Derek had a feeling they might not get much further before it all became too much for them both. Stiles cried out his name as Derek pulled down his own jeans to his thighs and rubbed them against one another through only the thin layer of their underwear. Knowing that it wouldn’t take much more to push Stiles to the edge, and eager to feel Stiles shaking with orgasm, Derek reached his hand around Stiles’ backside, hand slipping into his boxer briefs. With a single finger, he pressed against Stiles’ hole, just enough to breach it with the tip and Stiles’ went stiff, crying obscenities into Derek’s ear.

When Stiles had come down from his high, he lay down next to Derek who was still at full mast and in need of attention. Stiles took no time in freeing Derek from his confines and wrapping his hand around him. He pulled and rolled his wrist in the way he knew Derek liked and watched intently as Derek moaned and rocked his hips up into Stiles’ hand.

‘You’re so hot.’ Stiles panted, lips wet from his tongue which darted out every few seconds. And then Derek felt the hot, wet heat of Stiles mouth and he knew it wouldn’t take much longer. It was only a few head bobs later when Derek swore and shot his load into Stiles’ mouth. Stiles held the base of Derek’s cock, forcing it to the back of his throat as he came. And he swallowed, his adam’s apple strong against the flush skin of his neck.

‘Fuck.’ was all Derek could say when Stiles sat back, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

‘You like that?’

‘Yeah, wasn’t half bad.’

Stiles rolled his eyes. Derek pulled Stiles to him, wrapping his arms around the boy’s head and shoulders. Derek rolled into him, nuzzling his cheek with the tip of his nose and peppering kisses along his hairline. He loves the smell of Stiles’ hair. Stiles hummed happily before he wriggled free and slinked off the bed to the wardrobe where he took out a clean pair of briefs. The ones he was wearing had a dark grey patch on the front. Derek lay back as Stiles went to the bathroom to clean himself up.

He was acutely aware that, more often than not, he and Stiles were having sex purely for the sake of it. Sure, he sought comfort in Stiles. Being close to someone, being intimate, helped keep the bad memories away but he was also just enjoying being with him. He wondered how aware Stiles was that they were becoming far more than one another’s sexual distraction.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The thought of Derek making a sand castle makes me feel warm inside haha! I imagine him to be a perfectionist and make it really neat while Stiles just chucks the sand around all over the place.  
> Coming up:  
> Derek helps Stiles to realise his continuing fears and Stiles finds the clue he's been waiting for. But will it help him save the day or lead him into danger?


	34. Washed Up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello.  
> Sorry it took longer than usual to update this time. I had a manic weekend.  
> Warning: there is some sexual assault in this chapter. It isn't anything graphic and only lasts for a few lines but I just wanted to warn people.  
> Enjoy!

Saturday, 21st March

Stiles shot up from his sweat stained pillow. He gasped and clutched at his chest, trying to draw air into his lungs. Derek was suddenly at his side, a hand on his shoulder. The contact help to ground Stiles, bringing him out of the whirling nightmare.

'You're still have those dreams?' Stiles could do nothing but nod. His throat was constricted, breathing still difficult. 'But Allison is out of the hospital, she's fine now.'

Stiles shook his head. He knew that Allison was well, that he had no need to worry about the effects of the Nogitsune anymore, but the dreams still plagued him, taunting him, and he had no idea why. He couldn't express any of this, his body too exhausted from lack of oxygen.

'Water.' he gasped. His head was pounding. Derek stood from the edge of his bed and went to get one of the complimentary bottles of water from the mini fridge. He handed it to Stiles who opened it with shaking fingers. He gulped it down slowly.

'Does this happen every night still?'

'Almost.' he replied breathily. ‘When I’m alone.’ A pained look flashed across Derek’s usually hard features. Stiles wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. 'Sometimes I'm just too tired to dream.'

Derek perched on his own bed, watching Stiles drink the rest of the water.

'Why don't you go talk to someone about it?'

'I can't exactly explain my dream to anyone, can I? They'll think I'm insane.'

He imagined going to the school counsellor about his dreams and almost laughed at the thought of trying to explain how he had been possessed by a demonic spirt and almost killed one of his best friends.

'You could talk to me.'

Stiles rolled his eyes.

'Thanks but I don't think that would help. You know everything anyway. It's not like you'll have a new insight on my insanity.'

'Well, something's changed. You thought you were having nightmares because of Allison being in the hospital but it's clearly something more. Otherwise why would you still be having them?'

Stiles fiddled with his duvet.

'I guess. I dunno. I mean everything is kinda ok now. At least it’s meant to be. Allison is ok and everyone seems happy. But I just haven’t been feeling that way. I’ve kinda been feeling like I don’t quite…fit. Like I don’t belong anymore.’

‘Why do you feel like that?’

Stiles didn’t miss the way Derek slipped into bed beside him, hand running up and down his back where the sweat was drying in the cool air of the room.

Stiles sighed.

‘We’re like a team, Scott, Allison, Lydia, everyone. Were like a fighting force against the supernatural.’ Stiles scoffed.

‘A pack.’

Stiles looked to Derek and twisted his lips.

‘Yeah, I guess we are.  We’re a pack and everyone has a role. Everyone has their place.’ Stiles pulled at his duvet, avoiding Derek’s gaze. ‘Everyone but me.’

‘I’m sure Scott wouldn’t agree.’

‘Well, he wouldn’t be because he’s my best friend and he’s too kind, too forgiving.’

‘You think you need to earn forgiveness?’

Stiles shrugged.

‘Well, yeah. I did almost kill them all.’

‘Stiles-’

‘No, I know what you’re going to say and I’m trying to deal with it. I’m trying to convince myself that I don’t need forgiveness because I wasn’t in control of my actions. I know that. It’s just hard to accept when I remember doing all those horrible things.’ Stiles shuddered and pressed into the warmth of Derek’s chest as he sat slightly behind Stiles’ shoulder. ‘But even if I can forgive myself for what happened, I don’t know if I can find my place in the group, the pack.’

‘Your place hasn’t gone anywhere, Stiles. They still need you.’

‘Do they? What for? Sure, I used to be the research guy. I was the one to figure it all out. But then I was the one killing people. I was the monster we were trying to hunt down and now I just can’t get into it. I’m trying to figure out what to do about these people who are going around shooting everyone, shooting you,’ Stiles turned and grabbed at Derek’s arm, pulling him closer. ‘but I’ve got nothing to show for my efforts. I just can’t see any links, any signs, any clues. It’s like the light has gone off in my mind and I can’t see anything anymore.’

Derek took his time to think before he spoke.

‘Do you think that might be why you’re still having nightmares? Because you’re afraid that the rest of the pack is going to think you’re no longer useful and kick you out?’

Stiles shuffled against the sheets.

‘It sounds stupid like that.’

‘It’s not stupid. It’s just how you feel.’

‘Yeah, well I wish I didn’t.’

They sat in silence for a while, the only sound coming from the ticking of the clock on the wall by the TV.

Stiles almost jumped when Derek spoke again. They had slid closer together, further onto the bed and at some point, Derek had joined him under the covers.

‘I think the only thing I can say is that you need to be patient. I’ve suffered loss at my own hands and felt like I had nowhere to turn, no one to save me but over time I learnt how to cope. It gets easier.’

Stiles barks a cold laugh.

‘Sounds like something a kid my age would get tattooed onto their shoulder.’

‘Please don’t.’ Derek said with a breathy chuckle, pressing a kiss to Stiles’ bare shoulder.

Stiles looked at Derek hazel eyes, hand reaching up to trace his stubbled jaw.

‘Do you still have nightmares? About the fire, about Paige?’

Derek pressed into Stiles’ touch.

‘Yes.’ His voice was but a whisper.

It wasn’t long before Stiles drifted to sleep, wrapped in Derek’s warm arms, comforted by the thought that while his nightmares may never completely leave him, he may one day be strong enough to accept them. That he might one day be as strong as Derek.

xxx

Sunday, 22nd March

The group spent the following morning on the beach again. They were extremely lucky with the weather. The temperature was in the low twenties and the sun was bright, even when the clouds billowed over occasionally. They ate an early breakfast at the hotel before setting up on the sand as they had the day before. Stiles didn’t try very hard to hide how much he wanted to sit next to Derek but no one seemed to notice. They were too busy soaking up the sun. Derek seemed a little less awkward today. He lay back on the towel next to Stiles, shades perched on his forehead. Stiles reached across the short distance between them, finger tips just barely stroking over the back of Derek’s hand. The skin was soft, as were the fine, dark hairs. He knew no one could see, they were all on his other side, but he didn’t risk any more touching.

They ate lunch on the beach too, sharing bags of fries, several of which were used in a throwing match between the boys. Stiles joined in when a ketchup soaked fry hit him on the cheek, courtesy of Scott. Derek did not partake but Stiles caught the smirk on his lips when Stiles was assaulted on either side by both Scott and Isaac with handfuls of condiments. After that, he trudged down to the water to wash himself off for the second that that weekend.

When the sun had zapped the energy from them all, the group moved back inside. The girls set themselves up on the decking with fruity cocktails Lydia had bought with her fake ID. Stiles turned down the offer of a drink, his head already swimming from the heat of the sun. Instead, he sat inside with the boys who were immersed in the sports channel where a rerun of a football match was being shown. Stiles had little interest in it. The only football or soccer he’d ever been interested in was that with Derek in his loft. Derek didn’t seem too interested either. He was scrolling on his phone instead, only looking up occasionally.

Stiles’ interest was caught only during an advert break when a sixty second news report flashed onto the screen.

‘Oh god, I hate watching the news.’ Isaac groaned.

‘Well, if you tried watching you might learn something.’ Derek mumbled, eyes never leaving his phone. Stiles and Scott smirked.

_‘The weather here on the East Coast is spectacular, reaching the mid-twenties in some areas.’_

‘Ok, I guess the weather report doesn’t suck.’ Isaac added. Stiles rolled his eyes.

‘Might that have something to do with the attractive woman in the short skirt pointing at the screen?’ Isaac nodded slowly, eyes heavy lidded with a smugness. ‘Good thing Lydia isn’t in here to give you a deserving earful about sexism.’

Isaac went a little red.

_‘And in other news, there are recent developments in the discovery of a body washed up on the beach on Tuesday. The forensics team working with the police have released a statement today, confirming that the body is that of Álvaro Urzua. Álvaro Urzua had been reported missing by his neighbours from his home in Arizona since mid-January.’_

‘Eww, gross!’ Scott exclaimed, eyes glued to the TV.

Stiles felt like his heart had stopped.

_‘The forensics team have stated that the body had been submerged in water for several weeks, perhaps since Urzua went missing. There are also indications of bullet wounds in the victim’s torso but there is not conclusive due to extensive water damage. The case is being treated as a murder investigation.’_

Stiles stared at the screen until long after the game resumed. He blinked rapidly, as if trying to clear his thoughts enough to process what he had just seen.

‘Stiles, are you ok?’

He didn’t even look to Derek as he spoke.

‘I need to go.’ He stood, swaying a little. ‘I need to go home.’

‘What? Why?’ Scott was stood next to him in seconds.

‘Stiles?’ Derek sounded concerned.

‘I’ve got to get to the station. I need to see my dad.’

‘Is something wrong? Is he ok?’

Stiles shook his head.

‘He’s fine, I just…it’s all coming together.’ Stiles turned to Derek, eyes wide. ‘Derek, I need to get back home, right now.’

Derek hesitated but nodded, handing Stiles the key to their room.

xxx

Only twenty minutes later, Stiles was back in the jeep, charging down the road. His heart was hammering, his mind blazing with new realisations.

‘I can’t believe I missed it. I can’t believe I didn’t see any of this before.’

‘See what?’ Derek asked over the speaker of Stiles’ phone. ‘What’s going on?’

‘Do you remember when I came over to your house with all that research I’d done? I had been looking into all the cases of shootings across the US that involved silver bullets.’

‘Yes, I remember.’

‘Ok, well do you also remember I mentioned a guy in New Mexico who was shot but survived?’

Derek was silent on the line.

‘Not really.’

‘Ok, well that doesn’t matter. The point is, that guy is Álvaro Urzua, the guy who just washed up on the beach the other day. He was our only surviving victim outside of Beacon Hills. I found out that he had moved from New Mexico to Arizona and I asked Deputy Sanchez if we could get in contact with him. He told me he would. He said he went to find him but that when he got there Urzua’s neighbours claimed he had moved away several months before without a word. No one knew where he went. Everyone thought he “went missing” of his own accord. But he never moved away, he _actually_ went missing! He’s been missing since the middle of January which is when Sanchez came back from Arizona. All this time I thought it was a lost cause but it was the most crucial lead! If he really had been shot by whoever it is terrorising Beacon Hills, then Sanchez must have realised I was on to something. He’s the one behind this, I’m sure of it!’

‘Stiles, Stiles, you need to calm down. This isn’t making any sense.’

‘It makes perfect sense!’ Stiles smacked a hand down on his steering wheel, the horn blaring at a car in front. ‘I told you how I got into an argument with my dad over the case? Well it was because I’d been looking at the reports and found out that someone had been altering the statements. I could only assume it was Sanchez but when I told my dad he refused to believe me. He said he knew his deputies and trusted them. But now I have more evidence. He was the one in charge of the case, had access to the reports and was also in the area where Urzua lived when he went missing. It’s all adding up!’

‘So you think he’s the one shooting people and that he’s trying to hide the evidence?’

‘Yes!’ Stiles was relieved Derek was finally getting it. ‘He must have known that I was starting to figure things out. That’s why he didn’t add the presence of solvent to my statement. I told him to add it but he didn’t. And the guy I went to see, he smelt solvent too and wrote it in his statement but when I looked at the original it had been edited out!’

‘But he didn’t smell like solvent.’

‘W-what?’

‘He didn’t smell like solvent. When I went with you to make a statement, Sanchez didn’t smell like solvent. Surely if he were the one shooting people and trying to cover his scent with solvent, I’d have been able to smell it.’

‘I…I didn’t think of that.’ Stiles felt the energy drain from him, his foot relaxing on the accelerator. ‘But even so, there are too many things pointing to him for me to ignore. I have to get to the station and talk to my dad. I just hope he’ll actually listen to me.’

Stiles drove the rest of the way in silence. Derek had hung up so he could explain to everyone else why Stiles had left in such a hurry, leaving Stiles alone with his thoughts.

He really hoped he was right about this.

He just still couldn’t believe he hadn’t seen the signs. Urzua was actually missing. He hadn’t just moved away, he’d been murdered. And he wasn’t the only one who’d gone missing recently. Malia had vanished from the face of the earth not that long ago. She had stopped messaging her father for over a week before suddenly getting back in contact. It seemed a little strange now that he was putting all the pieces together. And then there was Ethan. Danny had said he hadn’t been in contact with him for weeks. He’d just randomly stopped replying to his messages. What if they had met the same fate as Urzua?

Stiles blood went cold at the thought and his determination kicked back in. He pressed his foot down and the car flew.

xxx

When Stiles finally got back to Beacon Hills, managing to cut half an hour off the journey time, it was already starting to get dark. The sun was beginning to set when he pulled up outside the station. His dad’s car wasn’t outside but there was still a chance he was in his office.

‘I’m here now.’ Stiles said into the phone. ‘Yeah, I’m gonna go look for my dad. I need to talk to him. I just don’t trust this guy. I know he’s up to something. He’s the one behind this, I’m sure of it.’

Stiles put his phone back in his pocket when Scott hung up. Locking the jeep, Stiles approached the entrance, his heart catching in his throat.

‘Hello, Stiles.’

Stiles jolted in surprise.

‘Hello, Deputy Sanchez.’

The dark figure, leaning against the side of the building, cigarette in hand, stepped towards Stiles, under the light of the station entrance.

‘It’s been a while.’

‘Yeah. I guess it has. You’ve been away?’

Sanchez smiled.

‘Yeah, I had some uh, _personal_ business to attend to.’

‘Right. Well it’s good to see you again.’ Stiles said, moving towards the door. Sanchez moved with him, blocking the way.

‘You too.’ Sanchez held the cigarette to his lips and inhaled. ‘You here to see me?’

‘Umm, no, my dad actually. I’ve got something important I need to discuss with him.’ Stiles didn’t try to hold back the harshness of his voice or the look he gave the deputy. He didn’t want Sanchez to think he could get away with whatever it was he was doing any more. Stiles was on to him and he wanted Sanchez to know it.

Sanchez held his gaze for a few tense moments. Then he chuckled.

‘He’s out, I’m afraid. Not sure when he’ll be back.’

Stiles felt uneasy, the look on Sanchez’s face almost predatory.

‘I’ll come back later then.’

‘Or you could wait here with me?’

A chill spread over Stiles’ skin.

‘And do what?’

Sanchez stepped closer again, Stiles stepping back, out of the light from the door.

‘Whatever you want to do.’ Sanchez blew a puff of smoke into Stiles’ face. Stiles coughed, wafting the smoke away. ‘You know, I was hoping to see you out with that ID I so kindly gave you. I thought you might be out with some of your friends.’ The deputy stepped up faster than Stiles could retreat, grabbing the front of Stiles’ shirt and pressing his lips to Stiles’ ear. ‘I’d like to meet them, Stiles.’

‘What are you doing?’

‘What, you don’t like it? I thought you liked me, Stiles. I know how much you like this.’ Stiles’ heart stopped altogether when he felt something hard press up against his hip. ‘I’ve seen you around with him, Stiles. I know what you’ve been up to.’

‘What are you talking about?’

‘Derek Hale.’ Stiles’ stomach dropped. ‘I’ve seen you around with him. I know how much you like it.’ Sanchez ground himself against Stiles. ‘I know you want it.’

‘N-not from you!’ Stiles put his hands up, pushing Sanchez away. The deputy laughed, tossing the burnt out cigarette to the floor.

‘You’re feisty. I like it.’ He moved back up to Stiles, hands holding his hips firmly. ‘Why don’t you show me what you’ve been doing for Hale? Put that pretty little mouth to good use.’

‘Fuck you! You’re just trying to stop me from talking to my dad.’

‘And why would I be trying to do that?’

‘I think we both know why.’

Sanchez laughed again and Stiles could see a wild look in his eyes.

‘I guess we do. Well, Stiles, you’ve surprised me. I didn’t think it would take you this long to figure it out but I guess I overestimated you. But you’ve finally started to see it, haven’t you. It’s such a shame because now,’ Sanchez smirked and shook his head tiredly. ‘I have to do this.’

Stiles opened his mouth to speak but didn’t have time before the side of his head made contact with the brick of the station wall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Coming up: The Sheriff is in a panic over the whereabouts of his son and begins to realise his mistake in not listening to him. Someone also find out about Stiles and Derek's secret relationship and they aren't too happy about it!


	35. Seeing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!  
> The site is back up! Yay!  
> I'm so sorry for taking so long to update. I was literally clicking the "add chapter" button last night when the site crashed. I kept trying for about an hour but I had to go to bed :( But the chapter is finally here!  
> I hope that the long wait hasn't got you all expecting too much! I'm worried that cliffhanger and the wait has got you all anticipating something wonderful haha.  
> This isn't going to be a kidnapping btw. So don't get too exciting if you think Stiles is going to be locked in a dungeon until Derek saves him haha!

Monday, 23rd March

‘Where is my son!?’

The Sheriff cried out to the room. He charged around his office, phone held to his ear with one hand, the other pulling at his hair.

Derek would have flinched at the raised volume of the man’s voice if he weren’t a werewolf with supernatural reactions. The man had been pacing his office for over an hour, making several calls, most of which involved quick talking and groans of desperations.

‘Yes, hello, Jones? It’s Stilinski. I know you’re not on duty tonight but have you been into the station at all?...so you haven’t seen my son around? No?...Ok, thanks.’

He hung up and sighed.

‘He’ll turn up.’ Derek offered, receiving a glare from the Sheriff.

‘This is Stiles we’re talking about. He gets himself into all sorts of trouble. God knows where he is.’

‘His car is here, he must be nearby. He can’t have gone far without it.’

‘I know that.’ The Sheriff scrubbed at his face. ‘But what if-’

‘What?’

‘What if-’ The Sheriff paused, biting his bottom lip and frowning to control the fear that was evident on his wrinkle creased face. ‘Ok this is crazy, but what if he was right? Right about Sanchez?’

‘You think he was on to something?’

‘Well, I didn’t at the time but where is he? Sanchez was on duty yesterday evening and then right around the time Stiles’ jeep was noticed outside, everyone realised Sanchez had disappeared.’

‘A coincidence?’

‘After what Stiles told me the other day, I’m not so sure.’

Derek mulled over what Stiles had told him on the phone when he was racing back to Beacon Hills. He seemed so sure that Sanchez was the one behind all the shootings but had disappeared before seeing his father. Derek had texted him several times once he got back to town but had heard nothing from the boy. Scott also claimed not to have been in contact with him after speaking with him on the phone when he reached the station.

The following morning, Derek had been called by the Sheriff himself who claimed that Stiles’ jeep had been left in the station car park but Stiles was nowhere to be found and wasn’t answering his phone. Derek went down to the station straight away, heart fluttering with uncontrollable worry.

‘So, Stiles didn’t call you or message you about what happened at the beach?’

‘No, what happened?’ the Sheriff said quickly, head snapping over to Derek. Derek hesitated, not quite sure where to start. ‘Derek!’

‘There was a news report, about a body washing up on the beach where we were staying. It was that guy Stiles found from New Mexico who got shot with a silver bullet but survived. He moved to Arizona but then went missing and his body washed up like two months later. Stiles says Sanchez went to find this guy, Urzua, but that he was already gone. Sanchez claims the neighbours said he moved but the police say his neighbours actually reported him missing, right after Sanchez had been in the area to see him.’

‘He realised Stiles was starting to figure things out so he went to silence our only lead.’ the Sheriff said under his breath. ‘Fuck. Maybe the kid was right.’

Derek had never heard the Sheriff swear before but he supposed the moment called for a little frantic behaviour. He too was worried, his mind wandering to all sorts of possibilities to Stiles’ whereabouts. Outside the station he had smelt Stiles’ fear. He knew that not that long ago, Stiles had been there and he hadn’t been alone. He was pretty sure the other smell was that of Sanchez but he’d only met the man once, his scent still a little unfamiliar. He’d told the Sheriff so.

‘What if he is right? What if Sanchez really is behind all the attacks?’

‘Well, then I’m screwed out of a job for not realising I was working with a murderer, but more importantly, my son could be _dead_ right now.’ He threw his hands up to his head, sinking down into his chair. Derek could smell the panic billowing from the Sheriff. He ran his hands over his face, pulling the sleep deprived skin downwards. ‘I’ve got to go look for him. I need to get out there and find my boy.’

The Sheriff stood, grabbing his jacket and marching towards the door, stopping when it swung open and a female deputy looked inside.

‘Sheriff, it’s your son.’

Derek’s heart sank.

‘My son?’

The terror was heavy in the man’s voice.

‘Yes, sir. He’s here.’

‘Oh thank god!’ The Sheriff hurried past the deputy, Derek following. They rounded the corner to the main desk where Stiles was sat on a bench, another deputy sat with him, dabbing at a wound on his forehead. ‘Stiles!’ The Sheriff ran to his son and pulled him up into a massive hug. Derek watched the surprise in Stiles’ eyes which quickly turned to relief as he hugged him back. ‘What happened? Who did this to you?’

‘I know you won’t want to hear this but it was Sanchez. I promise.’

‘I believe you son.’

‘You do?’ Stiles’ eyes were wide. ‘But I haven’t even explained. I have something really important I need to tell you. When we were at the beach, there was this news report-’

‘I know, kiddo. Derek told me all about it. I’m so sorry I didn’t believe you before.’

‘Derek?’ Stiles looked to him with the same round, childlike eyes. He really was far too young to be dealing with such trauma.

‘He came over this morning when I told him you hadn’t come home. We’ve been so worried about you.’

Stiles continued to stare at Derek with a small smile on his lips. Derek simply shrugged which, if anything, only made Stiles smile brighter.

The Sheriff took Stiles to his office where he asked Stiles to tell him everything that had happened the previous night. He claimed to have spoken to Sanchez outside the station about speaking to his dad when Sanchez had sexually assaulted him before revealing that he was involved in the shootings. He then knocked Stiles out and the next thing Stiles could remember, he was waking up in an ally way in the middle of town. He’d managed to walk to the station but was in a lot of pain due to the large gash on his head.

Derek had felt his blood boiling, the thought of Sanchez touching Stiles driving him crazy. He managed to control himself, however, knowing he shouldn’t cause a scene - due to his insatiable lust for the Sheriff’s underage son - in the middle of the Sheriff’s station.

It wasn’t long before an ambulance arrived, called for Stiles shortly after he had arrived covered in blood but not before the Sheriff put out an APB for Sanchez’s arrest. Derek went with Stiles in the ambulance, promising the Sheriff that he’d look after him while he dealt with finding the rogue deputy. No one in the ambulance batted an eyelid as Derek held Stiles’ hand, an arm wrapped around his shoulders as the paramedics tended to his head wound. Stiles had settled against him, sighing into the warmth of Derek’s chest.

Once at the hospital, the doctors took no time in checking Stiles over. Not only did he have a head wound but he was also a minor and therefore a higher priority. It reminded Derek once again of how wrong it was that they were sleeping together. But he found he didn’t really care. No one from the ambulance seemed bothered by it. Stiles was almost an adult and could make his own decisions. What did it matter if Derek was already in his mid-twenties? They weren’t hurting anyone in what they were doing.

Derek stopped trying to justify his own actions to himself when the doctor finished his examination of the stitches in Stiles’ head.

‘He’ll need to be monitored overnight. With a head wound like this, we can’t risk sending him home yet.’

‘Ok, thank you.’

‘Are you a relative?’

‘Umm, yes. I’m his cousin.’ Derek lied easily, a small smirk flickering at his lips at the thought of his made up persona, given to him by Stiles himself.

‘Right, any other relatives in town?’

‘Yes, his father is Sheriff Stilinski.’

‘I see. Well, he should be informed that his son cannot be released from the hospital without his sign off so we’ll need him to come by tomorrow to do so.’

‘I’ll be sure to tell him that.’ The doctor nodded and made to leave. ‘Umm, would it be ok if I sat with him?’

‘Of course. He may be a little woozy though. We’ve given him some strong pain killers. He may also fall asleep pretty easily.’

‘Ok, thanks.’

The doctor nodded and left. Derek moved to the door of Stiles’ room where he’d been taken to get some rest. Derek knocked on the door and watched as Stiles’ face lit up with a smile at the sight of him. Derek stepped into the room, quietly shutting the door behind him, and taking a seat next to the bed.

‘Hey.’ Stiles said tiredly.

‘Hey, yourself. You feeling ok?’

Stiles shrugged.

‘Not too bad. The drugs they gave me feel pretty awesome, to be honest.’

Derek laughed.

‘I’m sure.’ Derek’s fingers twitched, eager to rest a hand on Stiles’ thigh where it rest under the blanket. He resisted. ‘I, um, I’m sorry. I should have come with you back to Beacon Hills. If I had, maybe this wouldn’t have happened.’

Stiles shook his head.

‘No, you needed to stay with the others and make sure they all got home ok. Especially Allison. And had this not happened, Sanchez never would have revealed that he was guilty. I’d still be trying to convince my dad to take me seriously.’

‘Stiles, you can’t possibly be happy about someone sexually assaulting you and giving you a concussion?’

‘If it ends up helping save lives, especially that of my friends, then yes.’

Derek shook his own head, squeezing Stiles’ leg, no longer able to resist touching him.

‘You know, for an irritating brat, you sure are a good kid.’

‘I won’t be a kid for much longer.’

Derek stared at Stiles, watching the open expression on his face. He wasn’t sure what Stiles was suggesting. Stiles moved his own hand over Derek’s where it was creeping further up his thigh, Derek leaning in close to Stiles, hazel green eyes locked one honey brown.

‘Stiles, I-’

Derek was cut off when the door swung open and the Sheriff hurried in. Derek quickly removed his hand from Stiles’ leg, not certain if the Sheriff had noticed or not.

‘How are you doing, kiddo? The doctor seen to you yet?’

‘Yeah, got all stitched up.’ Stiles said, pointing to his head where a bandage had been put over the wound. ‘How’s it going at the station?’

‘Nothing yet, I’m afraid. I’ve got every officer in the area on the lookout but he seems to have vanished. He’s been gone since yesterday evening so he could be anywhere by now.’ Stiles slumped in his bed, visibly disheartened. ‘Don’t fret son, we’re not going to let him get away with what he did to you.’

‘What he did to all those people, Dad. If he really is the one behind all this, he’s _murdered_ people. And not just Urzua and the kid who died here in Beacon Hills but loads of other people across America. Werewolves, Dad. He’s been targeting werewolves.’

The Sheriff looked a little confused.

‘But none of the lads shot in town were werewolves. I assumed you’d know of any other supernatural creatures in the area?’ he asked, turning to Derek.

‘I’d have smelt them by now. I highly doubt any of them were werewolves.’

‘That doesn’t necessarily mean anything. Those shootings could have been a decoy, or a warning. Sanchez could have been trying to toy with us.’

‘But how could Sanchez have shot all those people? Half the time we got calls in about the shootings, he was working in the station.’

‘Then he’s not working alone.’ Derek said under his breath. This was all becoming far more complicated than he had thought.

‘There must be more of them. We need to find out who they are before they start really trying to hurt us.’

‘Well, until we find Sanchez, there isn’t must we can do.’ The Sheriff rubbed the back of his neck. ‘I’ve been running a background check on him, to see if we’ve missed anything. But it’s all come up pretty clean. He is who he says he is. I even checked the police academy where he claimed to have trained and they have documents proving that he attended and really is a qualified officer.’

‘What else do we know about him?’

‘Not much.’ The Sheriff scrunched up his face as he tried to recall the information. ‘Let’s see…he was born in Michigan, moved around a bit after leaving the Oakland Police Academy, got married and-’

‘Married? Have you contacted his wife?’

‘Tried that. We couldn’t find any contact details for a Juliet Sanchez nee Griswold.’

Derek practically felt Stiles’ heartbeat leap.

‘Griswold?’

‘Yeah, god awful name. I bet she was glad to change it.’ the Sheriff joked.

‘No, I mean, yes, it’s terrible, but I _know_ that name.’

‘You do?’

‘Yeah, I’ve definitely seen it before.’ Stiles patted at his sides and then seemed to remember he was in a hospital bed, wearing a gown. ‘Derek, could you pass me my jeans? I need my phone from the pocket.’

Derek reached over to where Stiles’ clothes had been folded into a clear plastic bag. He took out the jeans and found the phone for him, handing it over.

Stiles turned on the screen and sighed.

‘What?’

‘No service in here. I need to figure out how I know that name.’

‘Not right now, you don’t.’ The Sheriff plucked the phone from Stiles’ grasp. ‘You need to get some rest. Let me do my job and find this creep and tomorrow you can research to your hearts content. But for now, _sleep_. I’ll come by later this evening.’ The Sheriff leant over and pressed a kiss to Stiles’ temple. ‘I love you, son.’

‘I love you too, Dad.’

The Sheriff made for the door.                          

‘Derek, a word?’

Derek glanced to Stiles who pulled a face, shrugging. Derek stood and followed the man out of the room. When the door was firmly shut behind him, he turned to face the Sheriff whose expression had suddenly hardened.

‘Everything ok?’

The Sheriff didn’t waste any time.

‘I don’t know what’s going on between you two but I’m not sure I like it.’ Derek’s posture tightened, preparing to defend himself. ‘I know you’ve been helping my son deal with his stress but I’m starting to wonder how _exactly_ you’ve been doing that.’

‘Sir, I-’

‘If my son weren’t so dependent on you for support right now, I’d be carting you down to the station and examining you on the grounds of soliciting a minor.’ The Sheriff stepped right up to Derek, gaze never wavering. ‘You may be a werewolf but you don’t frighten me, Hale.’

The Sheriff turned on his heels and walked swiftly down the corridor and out of sight. Derek felt his stomach plummet but also felt a sense of relief that the man had found out about them and hadn’t instantly torn his head off or locked him behind werewolf proof bars. They may run into problems later but for now, he relaxed and moved back into Stiles’ room. One thing he knew for certain was that Stiles did not need to know that his father had an inkling as to the true nature of their relationship.

‘What was that about?’ Stiles asked the moment Derek came back to his bedside.

Derek waved a hand.

‘He just asked me to make sure you were ok while he’s gone.’

Stiles smiled. It made Derek’s heart swell. He was sure that smile was going to kill him.

‘I’m fine. Thank you though.’ Stiles reached out to lay a hand on Derek's cheek. Derek didn't nuzzle it. Of course not. 'So,' Stiles began, the tell-tale signs of his usual smirk pulling at his lips. 'were you worried about me?'

'No.' Derek said, unconvincingly. Stiles tilted his head, his thumb rubbing up and down over Derek's stubbled jaw.

'Thank you for worrying.' Stiles reached out for Derek, taking his hand and pulling him down towards him. Derek went willingly but hesitated when their lips were about to meet. ‘Thank you for everything.’ And, against his better judgement, Derek let Stiles bring their lips together.

xxx

Tuesday, 24th March

The following morning, Stiles was eager to get home. His father had told him he would pick him up before heading into the station at eight am. Stiles was ready to go at seven. He had been given the all clear by the doctor but was instructed to get home, get into bed and stay there. Stiles nodded along but had absolutely no intention of doing so.

When his father finally arrived and signed the paper work to discharge him, Stiles hurried to the car. His father drove irritatingly slowly but they eventually made it home where the Sheriff forced him to get into bed. He at least had his laptop and was turning it on before he’d even gotten fully under the duvet.

‘You going to be ok here alone, kiddo?’

‘Yeah, I’ll be fine.’ Stiles said distractedly as he waited for the software system to load. ‘I can always call Scott or Derek if I need anything.’

His father bristled a little but didn’t say anything about it. He left Stiles to his research, promising to come back at lunch time to check on him.

Stiles didn’t even notice him leave for work, far too immersed in figuring out how he knew that name. He was sure he had seen it before at some point. Was it a hunting family? He was certain he would have remembered if that were the case.

It surprisingly didn’t take long to find what he was looking for. And his heart was in his throat when he did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the Sheriff knows! Eeep! More from that later when things aren't so crazy!  
> Coming up: Stiles explains to everyone how he knows the name and what it might mean!


	36. The Deeper We Go

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!  
> Sorry for the delay - I keep getting delayed these days!  
> I had planned for things to happen a certain way but I felt like I should throw something extra in for you - aren't I nice ;)  
> Enjoy!

Tuesday, 24th March

An hour later, Stiles’ room was overflowing with people.

He was practically buzzing with energy, unable to sit still. He was also nervous about the large number of people surrounding him in the small confines of his bedroom. They were stood around him expectantly, waiting to find out why he’d sent out an urgent ‘Get to my house, now!’ text message.

Derek and Scott had arrived first, both standing outside his front door, Scott perhaps eyeing Derek a little suspiciously. Stiles would set that concern aside for now. He had much more important things to deal with. It wasn’t long after that that everyone else arrived, apart from Allison who, according to Isaac, had a doctor’s appointment and couldn’t come. Lydia had turned up looking as fabulous as ever, despite the short notice Stiles had given them all. It was still early in the morning and yet she looked as if she had been to a salon and had her hair styled and even had time to pick out an entirely new outfit. She was always so beautiful.

He would have admired her beauty a little longer if Derek weren’t standing just behind her, a tight white t shirt stretched over his wide, hard chest muscles. His stubble was a little thicker than normal; he obviously hadn’t had a chance to shave before rushing over at Stiles’ text message. Stiles realised he was staring when the brow above the beautiful hazel green eyes he was gazing at raised in question.

‘Umm, ok, thanks for coming over so quickly guys.’ Stiles moved across to his desk chair and took a seat, spinning it around to look around the room. Derek was stood by the window, leaning against the wall, Scott perched on the edge of the desk, Kira stood in his arms, Isaac sitting on the bed where Lydia moved across to join him, and Danny was lingering by the door, clearly still not sure of his place in the “pack”. ‘So, umm, I’m sorry for running off the other day. I hope you all got back ok.’

‘We hired a car.’ Lydia interjected, filing her nails. ‘No big deal. I’ll send you the bill.’

Stiles smiled when she winked at him.

‘Ok, well I’m sorry. I just needed to get back to see my dad. I guess you all know what happened.’ The group nodded, all aware of how Stiles had received his head injury. ‘Ok, well my dad has his deputies out looking for him and he also ran a background check and found that he has a wife; Juliet Griswold.’ Stiles turned back to his laptop. ‘As soon as I heard that name I knew I’d seen it before.’

‘Is it one of the hunting families?’ Scott asked in excitement.

‘That’s what I wondered but no, it’s much, much more complicated than that. I still don’t know what to do with this but…’ The group gathered around his desk, peering over his shoulder. ‘It turns out Griswold was an infamous German werewolf from the sixteenth century who practiced black magic and went insane, killing a whole load of people. I’m guessing most of you haven’t heard of that name?’ They all shook their heads. ‘Ok, well how about Stumpp? Peter Stumpp.’

‘Wait, isn’t that the guy they made all those slasher films about?’ Scott piped up.

‘Yeah, I saw those.’ Isaac added. ‘He killed his family or something didn’t he?’

‘Not quite. He apparently killed his son and ate his brains before he was captured, torture and killed. His wife and daughter were then put to death due to association, as far as I can tell. He’s known as Stumpp because his left paw was cut off during one of his transformations and when he returned to his human form his hand was missing and that’s how they knew he was the one terrorising the people of the area. He was left with just a stump. I can only assume they used a blade laced with mountain ash.’

‘Ok, so this guy was a crazy werewolf. What does that have to do with us?’ Lydia asked impatiently. She held her nails out in front of her for inspection.

‘Sanchez’s wife is a Griswold. That means she could be a decedent of Peter Griswold.’

‘Ok,’ Isaac started uncertainly. ‘but why would a man set on killing werewolves marry a woman who’s ancestor was probably the most infamous werewolf in history? It makes no sense.’

‘But he’s not killed any werewolves in Beacon Hills.’ Kira stated in confusion. ‘If he wants to kill you guys, why hasn’t he?’

‘Well, it seems that he’s been killing people with silver bullets across America for years. I think he’s been trying to track something down. He’s trying to find something in particular.’

‘So why use silver bullets when he’s trying to kill werewolves?’ Scott said as he picked up some of the printed papers Stiles had littered on his desk.

‘I think it’s just a rouse.’ Stiles began. ‘Or a distraction, or maybe even a joke. And I’m certain he’s working with someone else. My dad said he couldn’t have shot all those people in town because he was working at the station when several of them happened. I think these people have been travelling across America, maybe having come across from Germany years ago, trying to scare werewolves out of hiding by using silver bullets to kill innocent people. When the werewolves come out to fight them, they find a way to kill them.’

Isaac stood from the bed and came to lean against the back of Stiles’ chair.

‘So, they’re just waiting for us to reveal ourselves to try and fight them?’

Stiles nodded, taking the paper away from Scott.

‘I think so. They obviously don’t know who you guys are though.’

‘What about Derek? They shot him with a silver bullet.’ Lydia informed as if they had forgotten that vital piece of information.

‘I think they might suspect him. And they probably know he’s a werewolf now because he healed straight away. It won’t be long before they find out that Isaac and Scott are werewolves as well and that Kira is supernatural, too.’

‘Ok, let’s back track here.’ Isaac said irritably. ‘We still haven’t figured out why Sanchez married this Griswold lady. Why would he want to marry into her family if he wants to kill werewolves?’

‘Ok, so that’s where I’m stuck.’ Stiles admitted, aware that he had avoided the question. Isaac threw his hands up.

Everyone sat in silence for a few moments.

‘You said you think they’re looking for something in particular?’ Danny piped up from the door.

‘Umm, yeah I think so. There were only a handful of attacks using silver bullets which made me wonder if they were targeting specific areas or people, not just all werewolves.’

‘Ok, so what could they be looking for? I know you have like alphas and betas and stuff. Is there any special type of werewolf or something that they’re looking for?’

‘A True Alpha.’ Derek suggested, speaking for the first time since he arrived.

‘What, like Scott?’ Kira asked, her hand visibly tightening on Scott’s arm.

Derek nodded.

‘That makes sense.’ Stiles nodded too. ‘If they were looking for True Alphas that would explain why they haven’t been attacking more people.’

‘But why True Alphas?’

‘Because they’re powerful? More dangerous?’ Lydia suggested, finally putting away her nail file.

‘True, but that still doesn’t answer the question of why would they target werewolves when they came from a family of werewolves?’ Isaac was becoming frustrated.

Stiles tried not to let it bother him. He was trying as hard as he could to figure this all out and Isaac’s impatience wasn’t helping. He knew it was related to Allison coming home from the hospital. With all the chaos going on, he was afraid that Allison might get caught up in it and get injured again. Stiles could sympathise.

‘But the Griswold family don’t actually stem from werewolves. He was bitten.’

‘Maybe he was bitten by a True Alpha.’ Kira, too, sounded a little on edge.

‘Or maybe he was one himself?’ Derek said with a shrug, visibly unfazed but Stiles had a feeling he was simply holding back.

Danny spoke up again but had his phone held up, forever giving off an air of nonchalance.

‘But I thought True Alphas were, you know, good guys or something.’

‘It’s not that simple.’ Derek sighed. ‘Being a True Alpha means you have more power, more strength. But that isn’t always a good thing.  With great power-’

‘Comes great responsibility.’ Scott cut in, nodding as if he knew what Derek was talking about.

‘Okay, Scotty.’ Stiles said tiredly. ‘Let’s cut the clichéd crap, shall we?’

Scott bristled and scowled.

‘Well, Miguel over there started it.’ Danny said offhandedly, arms crossed.

‘Who’s Miguel?’ Kira looked confused.

‘Miguel is- it’s a long sto-It doesn’t matter!’ Stiles flapped and turned his attention back to Derek.

Derek continued with an eye roll.

‘With great power comes the temptation to abuse it. It doesn’t matter if you’re the most well intentioned person, power can change you. You have to learn to channel it properly and not be tempted into misguided use.’

‘And I guess not everyone can be as much of a softie as Scott.’ Isaac smirked. Scott smacked him on the upper arm with his knuckles and Isaac laughed.

‘Oi, cut it out.’ Derek snapped and everyone, apart from Stiles, stood straighter and zipped their lips. ‘If these people really are hunting True Alphas it means they’re looking for Scott.’

‘That explains why all the people who got shot in Beacon Hills fit Scott’s description. They’ve been trying to find out who he is.’

‘What, by shooting random guys who could be Scott, just to scare us?’ Isaac scoffed and Stiles felt his blood begin to boil.

‘They must want us to know they’re here. They want us to show ourselves.’

‘Are we going to?’

‘Not yet.’ Stiles sighed. ‘We don’t know enough. We don’t even know how many of them there are.’ Stiles knew that they still didn’t know enough information to find these people. ‘But there’s something else.’ Stiles looked down and wrung his hands. ‘I think whoever these people are, they might have done something to Malia and Ethan.’

‘What?!’ Danny asked, coming further into the room, panic streaking across his face.

‘He’s still not messaging you, is he?’

Danny looked down to his phone in his hand. He shook his head.

‘No, I haven’t heard from him in weeks.’

‘I thought so. And Malia went MIA for a while too. When I saw that Urzua had been missing, it made me wonder if Ethan and Malia are missing too.’

Scott frowned.

‘But why? I thought Malia was ok? She’s been in contact with her dad again since then, hasn’t she?’

‘Yes, but the fact that both she and Ethan have been gone for so long and they both seemed to vanish off the face of the earth at the same time just seems like too much of a coincidence when other people have been going missing too.’

‘So what,’ Lydia also joined them at the desk, her face looking a little tight. ‘you think they’re hostages or something?’

Stiles shrugged.

‘They could be.’

‘Oh my god.’ Danny was visible shaken. He was still new to all this.

‘I said they _could_. We don’t know. I could be wrong.’

‘But if you’re right? What do we do? We need to go to the police.’

‘I’ll talk to my dad about it. I need to tell him about all of this too.’

Everyone hovered awkwardly around the room.

‘So, what do we do for now?’ Kira asked, stepping away from Scott and picking up her jacket.

‘Well, I’m not sure there is much we _can_ do but wait for another sign. Hopefully my dad will find where Sanchez has gone. Maybe he’ll lead us to the others.’

‘Well, we’re not going to go running in, guns blazing.’ Derek said sternly. ‘If the police find these people then that’s our job done. There’s no point risking our lives if the police are already on the case.’

‘What? We can’t just sit here and do nothing.’ Stiles rounded on him in surprise.

‘Stiles, there is nothing we can do. You said it yourself.’

‘I said there isn’t anything we can do now! Once the police find where Sanchez is, where these people are hiding, we can help.’

‘Help how? Stiles, you’re human.’

‘So?’ Stiles stood up, eyes narrowing. Derek crossed his arms, eyebrows drawn together.

‘Stiles, don’t pretend you don’t know your own limitations. A baseball bat is no match for a group of werewolf hunters.’

‘Well, what about you? You’re hardly hot on it, are you?’ Stiles said in a cutting voice, pushing Derek in the chest. ‘In the woods, you didn’t even know they were there until you got shot in the back!’

‘I was distracted!’

A cough alerted them to the attention they had attracted from the rest of the room. Stiles held back a flush and stepped away from Derek, sitting back down and turning to his laptop.

‘Oookaaay.’ Scott said slowly, zipping up his hoodie. ‘I guess we should get going.’ He placed a hand on Stiles’ shoulder. ‘For now, we can just keep an eye out for anything strange and for any indication of solvents. And if anyone hears from Malia or Ethan, don’t keep it to yourself. Sound about right, buddy?’ Stiles nodded, not looking away from his laptop where he was pretending to read a Wikipedia page about- he didn’t even know what it was about. He was too frustrated to think. ‘Ok, you get some rest. I’ll come by later to check on you. Text me if you need anything.’

Everyone said their goodbyes and left the room. Stiles knew Derek was still there. He could feel his eyes on his back.

‘You going to stand there all day?’

‘Until you admit I’m right, yes.’

Stiles refused to turn around. He didn’t have much choice in the matter, though, when he felt the chair being turned against his will and he came face to face with Derek’s scowl.

‘You must know I’m right. You can’t take on a group of hunters.’

‘I can if everyone helps me.’

‘Ok, Scott, Isaac and I might be able to, and Kira too, but you’re human. These people, if they really are hunters, will be highly trained. They’d kill you before you could even walk through the door.’

‘Thanks for the vote of confidence.’ Stiles used his feet to turn the wheeled chair around but Derek’s strong hands held him in place.

‘Stiles, I’m just being honest. You can’t expect to be able to fight like we can.’

‘No, but I can try.’

Derek let his head drop, shaking it slightly.

‘Stiles, just leave it to the police. Let your dad do his job.’

Stiles bit his lip to stop himself from getting angry again. He breathed slowly.

‘I just want to be useful. I want to help.’

‘You are helping. You’ve done more than enough. We wouldn’t know any of what we do now without you. Your dad wouldn’t be after Sanchez as we speak if you hadn’t sussed him out. But you’ve already been hurt in the process.’ Derek reached out, a gentle hand touching the bandage on Stiles’ forehead. ‘It’s too dangerous.’ he said in a soft whisper.

Stiles’ chest swelled.

‘Are you worried about me?’

Derek paused where he was stroking a thumb along the side of Stiles’ head. His lips quivered in what Stiles knew was a smile.

‘Don’t overthink it.’

Stiles couldn’t help smiling as well.

xxx

Tuesday, 24th March

Derek stayed with Stiles for several hours. He’d made Stiles promise not to run head first into the fray, to come to Derek and Scott first if any new information became available. Stiles had begrudgingly agreed and allowed Derek to lead him to the bed where they sat in comfortable silence. Derek knew that it wouldn’t be long before things began to kick off. It wouldn’t be long until news of the hunters’ whereabouts became known and everyone would have to prepare to fight. But they had time.

Derek pulled Stiles into his chest, wrapping his arms around his middle. He wasn’t sure when he’d started making the first move but it didn’t matter now. Things were changing and neither one had said a word to stop it. Derek needed Stiles. He helped keep the memories away, the nightmares that shook him to the core. And Stiles needed him too. For now. Derek buried his face in Stiles’ shoulder, trying not to think about a time when Stiles would no longer seek him for comfort during the difficult days, when he was unable to push past his feelings of inadequacy and needed Derek to show him how much they all needed him. He didn’t want to think about a time when Stiles wouldn’t be there.

Stiles was relaxed in Derek’s arms, his head turned to the side, allowing Derek to graze his cheek with soft kisses. He sighed in contentment, reaching up to hold his fingers in Derek’s hair. Derek kissed along the inside of Stiles’ wrist, nipping at the skin. It wasn’t long before Stiles was lying on the bed, Derek kneeling between his legs. They kissed deeply, slowly, savouring the taste of each other. Derek rolled his hips into Stiles who responded with equal enthusiasm, hands running down the werewolf’s back. Clothes were soon removed, thrown carelessly over the side of the bed. Derek traced patterns in Stiles’ skin, loving the feeling of the soft flesh beneath him.

‘Derek…please.’ Stiles begged, eyes shut, lips wet and swollen. Derek nodded, although Stiles couldn’t see it, and set about preparing Stiles.

Derek pressed Stiles’ knee towards his chest, making more room for himself as he pushed forward. Stiles gasped softly as he closed his eyes. Derek waited for Stiles’ muscles to relax around him, calm and at peace. Derek continued to watch him as he opened his eyes and looked back at him. Stiles’ expression remained serene, a slight tilt of a smile on his lips. He reached a hand up and held Derek’s cheek, stroking the pad of his thumb under the werewolf’s eye. He reached forward and pressed their lips together. Derek’s own eyes slid shut at the contact. Stiles’ calmness passed through him and he never wanted the moment to end. Something in the way Stiles touched him, the gentle press of lips, was new to their relationship. Something had shifted and Derek was surprised at how at ease he felt with it.

Stiles broke the silence with a whisper.

‘Why me?’ he mumbled against Derek’s mouth. Derek breathed in Stiles’ scent, nosing as his soft cheek.

‘Because you needed me.’ he whispered back.

_And I needed you._

                                                                                                 xxx

When Derek finally left Stiles’ house, it was getting dark outside. He didn’t want to leave but knew that if the Sheriff came home, he would not be happy to find the werewolf in his son’s bedroom. Stiles had begrudgingly let him leave the bed but only with the promise of seeing one another again soon. Derek didn’t fancy the idea of going home to an empty loft and hoped Isaac would be there, for the company.

He was getting soft. Stiles was doing a number on him.

Derek pulled on his leather jacket as he walked through Stiles’ front door, unlocking his car with his key fob. He shut the door behind him and walked over to Toyota but stopped as a figure at the end of the drive caught his attention.

Scott was stood next to his motorbike, helmet tucked under his arm. His face was adorned with a dark glower.

‘I think we need to talk.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the extra thing was that Scott wasn't meant to find out yet. But I thought you might enjoy him finding out and also I thought he would be a shitty friend if he didn't even notice his best friend was seeing someone!  
> Coming up:  
> An old "friend" gets caught up in the case, the Sheriff reveals his knowledge of Stiles and Derek and we find out how Scott knows too! And as the case begins to unfold, Stiles calls on Danny for some help.


	37. Waiting Game

He knew something was wrong the moment he walked through the door. He could smell it, sense it in the air.

There was someone there.

Someone was in his house, someone he didn’t know.

His parents were out. They were at work and wouldn’t be back for a few hours. He was home alone with a stranger.

Make that strangers.

As he walked further into the house, he caught another unfamiliar, threatening scent. He felt his skin prickle, his hair standing up. He could feel the wolf inside him coming to the surface, ready to defend. He followed the scent to the living room but found it empty. Other than the smell, there was no other indication of an intrusion but he knew whoever these people were, they were still in the house. He was sure he could hear their heartbeats.

‘Who’s there? I know you’re here. Just come out.’

There was a pause, a deafening silence, and then a cold laugh. He spun around and came face to face with two heavily armed men.

‘Hello, Jackson.’

Jackson looked between them, his heart hammering. They were both smiling. They knew his name. How did they know his name?

‘Who are you? How do you know who I am?’

Another smile. The larger of the two men stepped forward. Jackson’s claws shot out, ready.

‘Well, Jackson, we know some of your little pals back in California. We’ve been trying to become better acquainted with them but they’re proving to be a little…stubborn.’

The other man, smaller, leaner and wearing what looked like police regulated boots, placed a hand on the taller man’s shoulder.

‘We thought you might be able to help convince them to meet us.’

‘What are you talking about?’ Jackson watched as they began to circle him. He knew they were sussing him out, ready for him to try something. But he knew there was little point in it considering the guns strapped to their backs. ‘What pals?’

‘The internet really is a wonderful thing.’ The larger man began, seemingly ignoring Jackson’s question. ‘It’s so easy to find people these days. All you have to do is go on Facebook and there it all is; all the information you need to find someone. You kids just spill all the beans, don’t you? You don’t leave anything out. You, in particular, Jackson, hold nothing back. Your account is littered with tales of your successes, your achievements, all bragging and no substance really. But you seem to be fooling enough people to make it worthwhile. You played a lot of lacrosse back in Beacon Hills, I noticed. You were also not afraid of showing off your excellent grades or that pretty little redhead clinging to your arm in almost all your old photos. Lydia, was it?’ he asked with a knowing smirk.

Jackson felt his pulse quicken and his wolf flare in rage.

‘You leave her alone! What have you done with her?’

‘Calm down, Jackson. We haven’t done anything to your little girlfriend. We’re more interested in your other friends. Like Stiles Stilinski.’

‘Stilinski? He’s not my friend.’

‘Another wondrous thing about Facebook. You young people add as many people as you can without actually having any desire to know them. It would be impossible to be friends with almost one thousand people, no?’ He waited a moment, perhaps for a response, before continuing, coming back round to face Jackson. ‘I’m getting off topic. What we need from you, Jackson, is simple. We would like you to come with us to California and help us get your little werewolf buddies to come out of hiding so we can find what we’re looking for.’

‘Like I’d come with you.’

Jackson bit his tongue when the smaller man held a large gun up to temple temple from behind.

‘Resistance is pointless. You might as well comply and make this easier for all of us.’ Jackson relaxed his muscles a little when the gun was moved away. He jerked in surprise, however, when a hand slipped into his pocket and took out his phone. He watched as the smaller man handed it to his “colleague” who easily snapped the phone in two. ‘You won’t be needing this.’

Jackson growled.

‘What are you going to do with me? With them?’ he asked, referring to Stiles, Lydia and the others he’d left back in Beacon Hills. ‘What is it you’re looking for?’

The man smiled down at his hands where he was weighing the two halves of Jackson’s mobile in his palms. He chuckled a little and turned his head, eyes focused into slants.

‘The True Alpha.’

xxx

Wednesday, 25th March

Stiles woke from a fitful sleep to the sound of his phone ringing. He sat up groggily, reaching for it on the bedside table. It was his dad.

‘Hey, Dad? Everything ok?’

‘Hey kiddo. Yeah I’m fine. How you doing?’

‘I’m ok. Tired. Didn’t sleep well.’

‘Just stay in bed and rest. We’ve been at Sanchez’s apartment all night. Found some interesting things.’

Stiles sat a little straighter.

‘What?’

The Sheriff listed several items including unlicensed guns, the indication that many more had been taken from the premises, presumably when Sanchez disappeared, clothes bundled up in plastic bags, a map of Beacon Hills with several areas marked with an X and a receipt for several litres of Chlorobenzene found in the shredder. If they weren’t sure of Sanchez’s involvement in the shootings, they were now.

‘And there was almost nothing in the apartment. No personal possessions, hardly any furniture. It was like a storage unit for a few odd bits and pieces but nothing more. I don’t think he had any intention of staying in Beacon Hills for long.’

‘You think he’ll come back?’

‘I’m not sure. He seems to have had something planned. We need to check out those places on the map to find out what but I suppose you sussing him out might have scared him off.’

‘But he was working with someone else. Whoever they are, they might still be here.’

‘I know, Kiddo. We’re working on it.’ He sounded tired.

‘I can help. Let me have a look at the map.’

‘No, Stiles. You need to stay in bed. Rest.’ The Sheriff paused on the line. ‘I don’t want you getting hurt again.’

‘But Dad, I can help.’ Stiles insisted.

‘You’re not some werewolf with magic powers. Just let me sort this.’

‘Ok, what if I ask Derek to watch out for me?’ Stiles tried even though he knew Derek would side with his dad.

‘I think Derek’s done enough.’

Stiles was silent for a moment, trying to figure out the tone in his father’s voice.

‘What do you mean?’

The Sheriff sighed.

‘I think you know what I mean. He’s made himself a little too…friendly.’

‘Friendly?’

‘I don’t think it’s appropriate.’ his dad bit out, clearly trying to school his voice.

‘Dad, I-’

‘We can talk about this later, Stiles. Go back to sleep.’

The Sheriff hung up, leaving Stiles panicking a little. Did his father know?

xxx

It turned out the credit card details on the receipt did not belong to an Elias Sanchez. They were under a completely different name altogether. A woman’s name.

Clarissa Griswold. Another member of the Griswold family.

After a background check on the name proved fruitless, the Sheriff came home and poured over the map on the dining room table. Stiles watched from the doorway, wanting to take a look himself but knowing his father would try to march him back up to bed if he made himself known.

It didn’t take long for the Sheriff to notice him standing behind him.

‘Stiles, I told you to stay in bed.’

‘And I told you I want to help. Just let me take a look.’

The Sheriff unwillingly stood aside and let Stiles look over the map marked with red crosses in five different locations.

‘We’re going to start here tomorrow.’ his dad said, pointing to the X closest to the centre of town where most of the attacks happened.

‘How do you know where to look though? This X is right in the town. It covers like three shops.’

‘We’re getting a permit to search the premises of all three shops and several more on the other side of the street. As for these crosses, we’re not exactly sure what we’ll be searching.’

Stiles peered down at some of the crosses further outside the town.

‘There’s nothing there.’ he said as he realised they were placed over otherwise unmarked areas.

‘Nothing you can see from the map, no.’

‘Wait, you think they might be underground?’ Stiles asked, things in his minds starting to click into place.

‘It’s the only explanation.’

‘That would explain why Scott could smell moisture on the bullets. He said they smelt damp. Maybe because they’re being stored underground?’

‘It’s a thought. But we’ve got to start here,’ the Sheriff tapped the map with his finger. ‘where the attacks were most frequent.’

Stiles sighed and rubbed his tired eyes.

‘I just don’t get how they have gone undetected for so long.’

‘They’re hunters. It’s their job to be stealthy.’

Stiles nodded and continued to stare at the map. The Sheriff yawned.

‘You ok?’

‘It’s been a long day. I gotta get some sleep.’ He made to take the map away but Stiles put out a hand to stop him. His dad eyed him for a moment before giving in. ‘Just a few more minutes.’

Stiles nodded and promised to fold it up and leave it on the table when he was done. His dad wearily climbed the stairs, wishing him goodnight. Stiles waited until he heard the main bedroom door shut before he took out his phone and snapped a photo of the map. He folded up the original and left it on the table before ascending to his own room.

xxx

Thursday, 26th March

Derek wasn’t surprised when he opened his front door to Stiles’ tired face. He hadn’t been sleeping well since they last saw one another and allowed Derek to pull him into his arms. They slowly made their way to Derek’s bedroom where Stiles slept peacefully for several hours while Derek curled around him, rubbing his back and side soothingly. When he woke, some of the darkness under his eyes was gone and his demeanour was brighter.

‘My dad won’t let me help with finding Sanchez.’ Stiles spoke out into the silence of the room.

‘Good.’ Derek said from behind him, arms tightening around his waist. ‘You need to stay home, where it’s safe.’

‘It’s safe here with you.’

Derek didn’t know what to say. His conversation with Scott on Tuesday had suggested the alpha thought Stiles was anything but safe with Derek.

_‘I think we need to talk.’_

_Derek raised a thick brow, moving closer to Scott and leaning against the back of his car._

_‘About what?’_

_‘I think you know.’_

_‘I don’t think I do.’ Derek said with a shrug. ‘Would you please enlighten me?’ Derek had a feeling as to what Scott was on about but he wasn’t about to put his foot in his mouth and give it all away in case he was wrong._

_‘Stiles.’ Scott said sharply. ‘I know what you’ve been doing with him.’_

_Derek tilted his head, studying Scott with narrowed eyes._

_‘And what’s that?’_

_Scott looked a little embarrassed and stepped closer, glancing around himself as if making sure there was no one about to overhear them._

_‘You’ve been sleeping with him!’ he hissed under his breath._

_Derek sighed loudly._

_‘What makes you say that?’_

_Scott scoffed and rolled his eyes._

_‘I just hear you two rutting like a couple of dogs up there.’ He pointed dramatically up at Stiles’ closed bedroom window. His flailing arms reminded Derek strongly of Stiles himself. He guessed the two best friends must have rubbed off on one another a lot over the years._

_‘You…heard us?’_

_‘Yes. I came back to check on him and I saw your car was still here and then I found that the door was unlocked so I went in. But when I got upstairs…’ Scott blushed. ‘I heard you…you know…’_

_‘I see.’_

_‘Yeah.’_

_Derek held Scott’s gaze. Scott tried to hold it too but looked away and shuffled his feet._

_‘Alright, well if that’s everything, I’ll be off.’_

_Derek made to leave. Scott’s frown fell from his face and he simply look frustrated._

_‘Dude, take this seriously.’_

_Derek huffed._

_‘I am. So you think you know something. What do you want me to do about it?’_

_‘I want you to stop sleeping with him. He’s mentally unstable. He needs a friend, not a-a- fuck buddy!’_

_‘I’m not his fuck buddy. I’m helping him. And I seem to recall you being the one to ask me to help him in the first place.’_

_‘I asked you to help him. I asked you to help him find an outlet for his stress. I didn’t mean fuck it out of him!’_

_Derek leapt into Scott’s space and covered his mouth with his hand._

_‘Would you keep your bloody voice down!’ he snarled. Derek looked around them as Scott had only moments before. There was no one about and more importantly, no sign of the Sheriff. ‘Ok, so maybe I went about things slightly differently to how you imagined.’_

_‘Ah ittle?!’ Scott exclaimed in a muffled voice through Derek’s hand which he promptly took away. ‘I want you to talk to him, to listen to his problems and get inside that brain of his, not get inside his pants!’_

_‘He asked for it. He begged me to do it.’_

_‘He begged you?’_

_‘Yes. He was a mess and he asked me to help him through it. Sex was the only way he could think of to clear his mind.’_

_‘And you just gladly went along with it?’_

_‘It took some persuasion.’_

_‘And now?’_

_‘And now what?’_

_‘And now? Are you sleeping with him because you have to or because you want to? It certainly sounded like you wanted to from what I heard.’_

_‘I’m not using him, if that’s what you’re worried about. And I never would have slept with him if I didn’t want to. I wanted to help.’_

_‘And are you? Lydia seems to think Stiles is getting better, that he’s dealing with his issues, but from what I can tell, he’s simply burying his problems and using you as the shovel.’_

_Derek resisted rolling his eyes at Scott’s clearly newly acquired understanding of metaphors._

_‘And what if he is? Are you going to stop him from seeing me?’_

_‘No.’ Scott said shortly. ‘I don’t have control over him. He can do what he likes. I just want to make sure he’s safe.’_

_‘I can look after him.’_

_‘Can you? While you’ve been “helping” him he’s had two nearly fatal head injuries and almost got shot.’_

_‘Those weren’t my fault.’ Derek snapped although he already felt guilt pooling in his stomach at the memory of Stiles’ car crash, the time they got shot at in the woods when Derek didn’t even hear or smell the hunter until it was too late, and only the day before when Sanchez left Stiles for dead while Derek was home in bed rather than worrying about why the boy wasn’t answering his phone. Maybe he really wasn’t capable of keeping Stiles safe._

_‘I don’t want Stiles mixed in with the supernatural more than he needs to be. I can’t lose him. He’s my best friend. I love him.’_

_‘And you think I don’t?_

_The words were out before Derek had a chance to think about what he was saying. Scott blanched for a moment, surprise written all over his face. But then he steeled himself and his frown was back. For probably the first time ever, Derek was afraid of what Scott might do._

Derek realised he’d been silently mulling things over when Stiles nudged him in the ribs with his elbow.

‘You shouldn’t get getting involved.’ he said quietly, lips brushing Stiles’ shoulder. ‘You’ll get hurt.’

Stiles scoffed and turned in Derek’s arms to face him.

‘I’m a big boy. I can look after myself.’

‘Oh really?’ Derek asked, fingers running over the bandage on his head.

‘I was caught off guard. It doesn’t count.’

‘Sure.’

Stiles tilted his head up and looked at Derek with round eyes.

‘I do like being here with you. And not because it’s safe.’ he said with a cheeky smile. ‘I really like it.’

Derek swallowed, searching Stiles’ expression for something.

‘I like it too.’

It wasn’t long before hugging turned to kissing and kissing led to clothes being removed.

‘I think my dad knows about us.’ Stiles said as he lowered himself down on Derek. ‘He doesn’t want me to see you anymore.’

‘He doesn’t?’ Derek asked as he grunted, bouncing Stiles in his lap. Derek, of course, already knew this but he played along. He wondered how long it would be until Stiles knew of Scott’s reservations about their “relationship” as well.

‘Nu uh.’

‘So want we gonna do?’

Stiles paused for a moment and smiled.

‘Keep fucking.’

‘Good.’ Derek said, flipping them over so that he was looking down at the boy’s sweaty face. He spread the boy’s legs and pushed them against Stiles’ chest until he had clear access to him again.

‘Fuck me…’

Derek quickened the pace and panted as he rocked against him and Stile moaned loudly, uncontrolled.

‘Good boy.’

xxx

Stiles could never get enough of Derek. He was like a firework going off inside, sending him to new heights every time. He was addictive. Stiles could feel the pleasure building and growing in his abdomen and he wanted nothing more than to cum all over Derek’s tight stomach muscles and have Derek empty himself into him. He was desperate for it but as soon as he thought release might come, it slipped away again, not quite reaching its peak.

‘More…more…I need it.’

‘More?’

‘…please…’

xxx

Derek heeded his plea and he raised himself and Stiles’ backside upwards, grabbing the boy’s hips so that he could drill into him. ‘You like that?’

‘Yes! Please, more.’

The wolf inside Derek grew impatient at the man’s attempts to hold back and pushed through Derek’s reserve. ‘Ah!’ Derek cried out as his teeth sharpened and his eyes glowed a bright blue. ‘Fuck!’

‘More! Please, Derek. For God’s sake, just fuck me!’

The wolf roared and the claws dug into the soft flesh of Stiles’ hips and blood dripped onto the mattress. Neither noticed the wounds that Derek was inflicting on the boy and Stiles held onto the backs of his knees, giving Derek everything that he had. He knew Stiles was close, that he could feel his orgasm building again but this time it grew higher and further than before and Derek knew it was time. Stiles grabbed out at Derek’s arm to let him know but the wolf was snarling and pounding away inside of him as if he were in a trance. The sight of it seemed to send Stiles over the edge and he all but screamed as he came over them both.

The sudden tightness also gave Derek the final push he needed and he, too, bellowed as he came, his mouth wide, teeth long and head thrown back. He continued to rock in and out of Stiles as he rode the orgasm out to completion and slowed down as the pleasure swept through his entire body. When he was completely spent, he rubbed his hands across Stiles’ arse cheeks and gave them a squeeze.

‘You okay?’

‘Fine.’ Stiles said, lowering his legs. ‘More than fine.’

Derek smiled and lay down on top of him, kissing his soft, red lips. But then he noticed the blood on his hands and traced it back to Stiles’ hips.

‘Shit. I’m sorry.’ Derek quickly got up to find some tissues and antiseptic from the bathroom. Stiles waited patiently but Derek could hear his racing heart.

‘It’s really not that bad!’ he called out but Derek was already coming back with his medicine box.

He handed Stiles some tissues to wipe away the blood while he searched for an antiseptic wipe. When he found one, he pushed Stiles’ hand away and cleaned the small claw wounds on both hips, trying to ignore Stiles’ hisses of pain.

When Derek was done cleaning up the mess, Stiles was on his phone replying to a message.

‘That you’re dad?’

‘Yeah.’ Stiles said in a distracted voice. ‘He says they found nothing at the first X on the map. They’re going to the next one now.’

Derek nodded although Stiles was not looking.

Stiles had explained the findings at Sanchez’s house and his frustrations at not being allowed to help. Derek understood his desire to catch the man who almost killed him as well as several others, including Derek, but it was much too dangerous for a teenage boy with no physical training and lacklustre strength. Derek needed to keep Stiles safe. He would prove Scott wrong. He would never let anyone hurt his boy again.

xxx

Friday, 27th March

Stiles cursed in frustration when the second searched area from the map also came up blank. It was a little further away from the town centre but still close to the location of several attacks. Stiles hated sitting at home, waiting for something to happen. But both Derek and his father had begged him not to get involved and it was hard to go against them both. He knew they were only doing so because they cared.

However, his ability to stop himself from running out of the house and driving straight to one of the other locations on the map was weakening by the minute. He had looked over his photo of the map several times and knew which of the remaining locations was the most likely to reveal something. The X furthest out of Beacon Hills was situated right next to the warehouse he, Derek and Lydia had been too to get the solvent, the same warehouse listed on the receipt found in Sanchez’s house. It had to be that one. He’d told his dad about his theory but he already had all his free officers searching the other areas. They would get to it when they got to it, he had said.

Well Stiles wanted to get to it _right now_.

However, Stiles forgot about his desire to hunt for hunters when his phone rang, Lydia’s name coming up on the screen.

‘Hello?’ he greeted, the phone raised to his ear.

‘S-Stiles!’ Lydia’s tearful voice croaked. ‘Stiles, it’s Jackson.’ Stiles’ heart sank. He knew what was coming. ‘I think they’ve taken Jackson!’

Stiles waited with bated breath as Lydia explained how Jackson’s parents had called her earlier that day to ask if she had heard from their son. He had been missing for several days and hoped she may have been in contact with him. She hadn’t. Stiles had tried his best to comfort her but insisted that he needed to go. If Jackson was now missing, it meant it was highly likely that Malia and Ethan had also been taken. And that meant Stiles needed to act. He couldn’t sit and wait any longer. He needed to do something.

‘Sorry, Dad.’ Stiles whispered to the room as he searched for another contact on his phone. He waited with a bobbing knee for the phone to stop ringing.

‘Hey, Danny? I need your help.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jackson is back in Beacon Hills! Let's hope he's ok!  
> Coming up:  
> With Danny's help, Stiles finds the puzzle pieces he needs and the group prepares to save their friends. But are they simply heading straight into danger?!


	38. The Clock Ticks

Friday, 27th March

‘Track her phone? You want me to _track_ Malia’s phone?’

‘Yes.’ Stiles replied shortly. Danny looked at him sceptically.

‘You know I can’t do that legally without actually owning the phone, right?’

‘Well duh, why else would I ask for your help? I need you to do your little hacking thing.’ Stiles explained, wiggling his fingers to indicate typing on a computer.

Danny raised a brow in a way that eerily reminded Stiles of Derek.

‘Ok, fine. But only because this might help save Ethan.’

‘And stop a group of crazy werewolf hunters!’ Stiles exclaimed.

‘Yeah, well that too.’

Stiles held back a sigh and scrubbed his face with his hand.

‘Just…can you do it?’

Danny shrugged, pursing his lips.

‘Yeah. Might take me a little while but I’ll get it done.’

Stiles clapped his hands together in a tight grasp, a small sense of relief filling him.

‘Great.’

‘I’m not doing it here though.’ Danny said, slinging his bag over his shoulder. ‘I’m going home. You could have just called me about this rather than forcing me over here.’

‘Oh, right.’ Stiles scratched the back of his head and realised how impromptu he was being. ‘Sorry.’

Danny moved to the door but stopped. He turned back and eyed Stiles with a once over.

‘You know, I haven’t seen you out clubbing since that one time. You not like it?’

Stiles blushed at the mention of the night Danny had found him at a gay bar and he’d then gone home with a stranger before being saved by Derek.

‘Umm, no, it was fine. I’ve just been…preoccupied.’

‘With whom?’ Danny asked with a smirk.

‘Umm…’ Stiles opened and closed his mouth, making a strange gurgling sound as his brain failed to function enough to think of an answer.

‘So there _is_ someone. He hot?’

Stiles couldn’t bring himself to look up into Danny’s expectant face. His cheek, he was sure, were glowing like a beacon out at sea. There was no point trying to deny the truth with Danny’s all-knowing eyes on him.

‘Yes.’

Danny laughed warmly and Stiles looked up to see him smiling in a way he hadn’t seen from him before.

‘Nice.’

With that, he left.

While Stiles waited for Danny to get back to him about tracking Malia’s phone, he poured over the photo of the map on his phone. He opened up a map of Beacon Hills on his laptop, trying to find any indication of something in the blank spaces marked with X’s. Stiles had been to all three locations before and could think of no obvious indication of an underground hideout. All the areas marked, outside of the town centre, were grassland and devoid of buildings. The only one near anything was the X marked next to the warehouse where he had been with Derek and Lydia. Stiles knew it must be where they were hiding. But knowing where exactly in that area they were hiding was another matter. And if it turned out that Malia’s phone was in that area, Stiles knew he couldn’t sit around and wait for the officers to search it. It was unlikely they would make it to that area before the end of the day anyway.

Stiles tried loading different maps on his webpage but they all came up with the same blank areas. As far as anyone was concerned there was nothing there.

Danny called a few hours after he had left and Stiles almost fell off the bed as he went to answer.

‘Hello? Danny? Did you find her phone?’

‘No, not yet. I’ve managed to get into the system. I hacked into her phone using her number and have used a tracking service to change the phone’s settings to allow GPS tracking but then her phone lost connection before I could activate it. Her phone is out of range or something.’

‘Or underground.’ Stiles said breathily, heart leaping.

‘Underground? Umm, I guess so. If she was down low enough, I suppose. But why would she be underground?’

‘My dad found a map in Sanchez’s house with a load of markings on it. They’ve been checking out the locations but most of them don’t even appear to indicate anything. They’re just on empty areas of grass.’

‘So you think she’s underground?’

Stiles realised it sounded a little strange but he didn’t have time for Danny’s scepticism.

‘Yeah, but I can’t just go and start digging up the ground in the hopes of finding her.’

Danny was silent for a moment before he spoke with a hesitance that Stiles knew wasn’t true to his confident self.

‘My messages to Ethan stopped going through to him. At first he just wasn’t replying anymore but then his phone wouldn’t even receive them. They’re just pending, waiting to send.’ Danny audibly swallowed. ‘What if they have him underground, too?’

Stiles could tell Danny was worried but he didn’t know what to say. They had never been close.

‘The sooner we find Malia’s phone the sooner we’ll find out. But why was Malia’s phone still receiving and sending messages?’

‘Maybe they have been using her phone above ground. If they’ve taken her phone from her to send fake messages, they would have to come above ground to do so.’

‘Ok, so we’ve got to wait until they come back up with the phone before we’ll find out where her phone is. Now I’ve just got to figure out what could possibly be underground and how to get in.’

‘Well, if phone signals aren’t getting through but it’s not so deep that they’d run out of oxygen, I’d say they were surrounded by thick stone or concrete or something like that.’

‘Something dense enough to stop the signals.’ Stiles said to himself, nodding along as his thoughts began to order themselves. ‘So what could be underground that’s made of stone or concrete?’

As Stiles spoke, he went back to laptop and looked up another map, this time adding a date to his search bar. He typed in 1950’s, hoping that an older map would reveal something that had since been forgotten or deemed no longer important enough to note on the map. Mid-century seemed like a good place to start. He clicked “search”. Several images popped up. Some of them ignored the date he’d added and simply showed him the same images he had already seen but others were noticeably older and showed the town many years ago when it was much less developed. Stiles chose one and expanded it, scrolling through till he found the areas he was looking for. He could hear Danny typing something at his computer and they both worked in silence for a minute or two. Stiles found the first of the blank areas from his map marked with a simple black dot. He found the same marking in the other two areas he was interested in but there was no key to explain them. He quickly looked for another map and found that it too was marked, only this time with letters. The first, closest to town, was marked with an “I” while the others were both marked with an “M”. He scanned the map for a key and found it at the bottom left. He zoomed in.

‘Industrial and Munitions.’ Stiles said aloud.

‘What?’

Stiles was a little surprised by Danny’s voice on the other end of the phone, having forgotten he was still there.

‘I’ve found a map that has the same locations marked out. They’re marked as Industrial and Munitions.’

‘What does that mean?’

Stiles didn’t reply. Instead, he typed the words into the search bar and waited for the page to load painfully slowly. When the page finally loaded, Stiles’ pulse quickened and his eyes widened.

‘The war.’ Stiles said as he read the results that came up. ‘Of course, munitions used in the war. Oh my god, I think I’ve figured it out.’

‘Stiles…’

‘I think it’s a bunker! A bunker from the Cold War era.’

‘Stiles-’

‘They’re hiding underground in a bunker! That explains it! They-’

‘Stiles!’ Danny shouted, finally catching Stiles’ attention. ‘Malia’s phone is active again. It’s just outside of town.’

Stiles was out of the door only three minutes later.

xxx

The jeep swerved to a stop outside the station, the breaks screeching as Stiles slammed the pedal down. The moment the car had stopped moving, he leapt out and bounded up to the station entrance. He had called his father before he left the house but he didn’t pick up. He prayed he was in his office but it was empty. In fact, the whole station was empty which meant his father had all his officers out searching for Sanchez.

‘Fuck.’ Stiles cursed, running a hand through his hair as he tried to think of what to do next. He knew where he needed to go but had no plan of what to do when he got there. He needed help.

Stiles took out his phone and opened the screen and noticed a text waiting for him. His body shook with a chilling shiver.

Malia.

But it wasn’t Malia, only someone using her phone. Stiles felt his throat close up as he scanned the words.

**Malia:** _Bring us the True Alpha or they all die._

He took a few moments to process the message before calling Scott. He couldn’t help from firing information down the phone at his friend but his heart was beating a mile a minute and he was beginning to panic. Scott told him to calm down and explain slowly.

‘They have her. They have Malia and I think Ethan and Jackson too. They’re outside of town, near the big warehouse. They’re hiding in an underground munitions bunker.’

‘A bunker?’

‘I haven’t got time to explain, Scott. Just get there now! I’m trying to find my dad.’

‘Where are you?’

‘The station. Just go and I’ll meet you there.’

Scott didn’t ask any more questions and hung up. Stiles dialled another number, his fingers shaking.

‘Derek!’ he cried out as soon as the phone was answered. ‘I need you’re help. I know where they are!’

xxx

Friday, 27th March

Derek parked next to Stiles’ jeep which was at a strange angle, partly blocking the entrance to the parking area. He hurriedly made his way inside the station and looked around for Stiles. He had sounded afraid on the phone, his voice wavering and his words jumbled with stammers. He could smell Stiles’ fear thickly in the air and followed the scent through the station to a corridor near the back of the ground floor. He eventually found Stiles outside the weapons room, his hands fumbling around his dads set of keys.

'Stiles, what are you doing?'

'Trying to open this bloody door.' He tried a key and it didn't fit. 'Fuck!' Derek moved closer, reaching out to help. 'No! I gotta do this.' He tried another and another but no luck. He let out a cry of frustration, dropping the keys. Derek bent down to pick them up and Stiles snatched them from him.

'Stiles, calm down! Let me help.'

'No! No I have to do this. I've got to do _something_. I-I...I need to help.'

Derek placed his hands on Stiles, his fingers still shaking.

'Stiles, look at me... _look_.' Stiles looked up, eyes wet with threatening tears. 'Breathe. You won't be able to do anything if you don't calm down.' He took Stiles' face in his hands, forcing him to hold his gaze. 'You want to help?' Stiles nodded. 'Ok, then I need you to do something for me; just breathe. Breathe and focus. Can you do that for me?' Stiles blinked, a single tear spilling over. He nodded. 'Good.' Derek bent his head down so their foreheads were touching. 'You can do this. You can do this because we need you. We all need to work together on this and we can only do that if we have you.'

'Derek, I...'

'We need our Stiles. I know he's in there.' Derek said, tapping Stiles' temple softly with his thumb, hands cupping his face.

Stiles let out a sob and brought their lips together. Derek could feel tears falling down Stiles' cheeks, his own getting wet through contact. He kissed him back, holding his neck gently, hoping he could show Stiles just how much he trusted him in that one kiss, show him how important he was to all of them.

Stiles pulled back and closed his eyes. Breathing in deeply. He looked up with a small smile.

‘I thought it was too dangerous for someone like me to get involved with werewolf hunters.’

‘It is, but I know I can’t stop you from saving your friends.’

Stiles let out a shaky laugh and kissed Derek again.

Having calmed down, Stiles was able to find the correct key and unlock the heavy set door. Once inside, he moved through the room with purpose. Derek watched as he took two Glock pistols from a locked cabinet and four magazines which his slipped into his pockets.

‘Better than a baseball bat, hey?’

Derek nodded, a little afraid of the danger Stiles could be putting himself in just by holding such weapons. He was even more worried when Stiles stopped before leaving the room to grab a riffle off a shelf on the wall.

‘Wow, d’you think you’re going to need that?’

‘I’m not gonna risk not bringing it. If these people want to kill Scott or Malia, they’ll have to go through me first.’

Derek would have laughed or teased him if he didn’t look so furiously serious.

xxx

When they got to the warehouse, Derek parked alongside Scott’s motor bike. Stiles climbed out and walked over to Scott who was looking around the area, his nose twitching.

‘D’you think they know we’re here?’ he asked when Stiles stood by his side.

‘Yes. They knew we would come as soon as I got that message.’

‘Are we being stupid?’

‘Probably. But we can’t risk their lives.’

‘So, what’s the plan?’ Isaac’s voice asked from behind. Stiles turned around to see him approaching from the trees that lined the edge of the woods.

‘I’m not sure.’ Stiles sighed. ‘I’ve not exactly got training for this kind of thing.’

‘No, but I know someone who does.’ Isaac said with a smile.

‘Wha-’

Stiles watched as Allison walked towards them, her hair billowing in the strong breeze, her bow and arrow on her back. She smiled as she approached.

‘Hello, Stiles.’

‘Allison, what are you doing here?’

‘I tried to convince her not to come but she wouldn’t listen.’ Isaac said fondly. Stiles could see the look of worry in his eyes, regardless.

‘I’m not going to let my friends take on a group of hunters alone.’

‘Are you well enough?’ Derek asked with a low voice.

‘I feel fine. I’m not going to let what happened to me happen to any of you.’

‘What about your dad?’

‘He’s out of town. I wouldn’t be here if he knew.’

Stiles could see a cheeky glint in her expression and knew she was ready. He also knew they needed her if they were going to stand a chance of saving their friends.

The sun was beginning to set as they moved further into the trees to discuss a game plan. Allison took out her own map of Beacon Hills and laid it out on the ground.

‘When Scott called Isaac about what you’d found, I had a look at some of my dad’s maps of the area. All the locations the hunters have been looking at are bunkers. They were obviously looking for somewhere to hide out, somewhere they wouldn’t be noticed. And what better place to hide than in an underground bunker made of concrete? And what’s more, they’re right under the warehouse which means they had easy access to the solvents they’ve been using to cover their scent when they’re above ground and it also masks the stronger smell of their hideout. There seems to be several people in this group which, from what I’ve learnt about werewolves, would be a strong enough scent for you guys to pick up. So this was the obvious choice of location.’

‘Ok, but how do we get in?’ Scott asked, standing over the map with his arms folded. Allison didn’t answer directly.

‘Stiles, do you have that map with you?’

‘Uh, no. But I have a picture.’ He unlocked his phone and showed her.

‘I thought as much.’ she said quietly. ‘That map is much less detailed than my dad’s. It only shows the vague area that the bunker is located in. This one is much clearer.’

Stiles sunk down to the ground where Allison was on her haunches, pointing at specific parts of the map. He could see more clearly now that the area marked on the map found at Sanchez’s house, the area they were now standing in, was marked with ridgelines, indicating the terrain.

‘It marks out the valley behind the warehouse.’ he stated.

‘Exactly, and it also shows that the entrance to the bunker is in the side of that valley.’ She pointed near the V of the valley. There’s a depression set into the earth on this side.’

‘So, should we go find it?’ Isaac asked, eyeing Stiles’ riffle uncomfortably.

‘No, surely they’ll be expecting that.’ Derek said, brows drawn together.

Allison shook her head.

‘Actually, I’m pretty sure that’s exactly where we need to go. All the Cold War bunkers were sealed up in the eighties because they were deemed too dangerous. Kids were breaking in and some got injured. And considering this bunker is for storing ammunition, it’s no wonder.’

‘So how did they get in?’

‘Through the warehouse.’ Stiles said before Allison could answer.

‘Exactly.’

‘Wait, what?’ Derek looked confused. ‘Through the warehouse? How do you know this?’

‘It’s obvious.’ Stiles said with certainty.

‘Of course.’ Isaac rolled his eyes. ‘Someone want to explain?’

‘The bunker entrance is in the side of the valley but the passageway is a few metres long.’ Stiles said, indicating to the markings on the map. ‘The bunker itself, or at least the other end of it, is under the warehouse.’

‘But it’s several metres down.’ Derek commented, pointing in the direction of the valley. ‘How would they get down there?’

‘There was probably a passage already there.’ Allison explained. ‘The warehouse would have been built over the top. All they would need to do would be to find the entrance to the passage that led down to the bunker.’

‘Ok, but why would the company renting the warehouse just let them dig up the floors?’

‘I have a feeling the staff at _Cleaners Warehouse Store_ would have been no match for a family of werewolf hunters.’ Stiles said with a smirk. ‘Anyway, we know they were buying solvents from them and Lydia and I were pretty sure they were threatening the company. The guy we bought the solvent from was not happy when we started asking questions.’

‘Ok, so we go break open the main entrance?’ Isaac asked as he helped Allison to stand up. She scowled at him a little, clearly not needing assistance.

‘Yes,’ she began, shrugging Isaac’s hand off her arm. ‘but we also need to use the warehouse entrance.’

‘Why?’

‘They’re not going to expect us to know how they’re getting inside. They’re going to assume we’ll find the main entrance and use supernatural strength to break our way in. It’ll be much too noisy and messy to do it undetected so while some of us break in, the rest of us can sneak in through the warehouse and hopefully get Malia, Ethan and Jackson out before the hunters realise.’

‘Speaking of Jackson, where’s Lydia?’ Stiles looked around them as if she may perhaps have been there all along but he hadn’t realised. ‘I thought she’d want to be here to help.’

‘I dunno.’ Scott shrugged. ‘I know Kira is out of town with her parents for the end of spring break. I texted her about what’s happening but she hasn’t gotten back to me yet.’

‘I called Lydia when we set off,’ Allison said, pointing to her car which was parked further along the treeline. ‘and she said she was on her way but-’

Allison stopped when a set of headlights appeared along the road and moments later Lydia was climbing out of her car, marching towards them. She came to a stop, the lights from her car blaring through the trees, soon to be the only light when the sun touched the earth on the horizon, as she placed her hands on her hips.

‘Let’s get these mother fuckers.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, so I know nothing about computers and tracking phones so please don't be mad if what Danny did wasn't possible. This is all just made up from my ever wandering mind and I've tried to make it as realistic as I can while still writing the story the way I wanted it :)  
> It's getting so close to the end now! Waaa!  
> Coming up:  
> Stiles finally comes face to face with the hunters he's been trying to find for so long. But what will he do when his friends and the man he loves are put in danger?


	39. Descent Into Madness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello.  
> This is the longest chapter and the one I'm most excited about. I spent so long working on it so I hope you all enjoy it!  
> The end is so close!!!!

Friday, 27th March

Derek hurried through the darkness, across the grass and down in the small valley. Scott was up ahead and Stiles between them, his riffle rocking against his back, making Derek nervous. Allison had shown them where to find the sealed entrance to the bunker and, with his and Scott’s supernatural eyesight, it wasn’t hard to find.

Stiles had messaged Danny before the group had split up to find out where Malia’s phone was. It had lost connection again which meant the hunters were most likely inside, waiting for them. Derek could smell chemicals in the air, a perfect mask to throw off any snooping werewolves, just as Derek had been a few weeks ago when he came to the area with Stiles and Lydia. It was a good hide out, just not good enough. Stiles had cracked the code. They all knew he would.

While Derek, Scott and Stiles took the main entrance, Lydia, Allison and Isaac had snuck into the warehouse. They didn’t know how they were getting along but needed to wait for Lydia to confirm they had found the passageway inside. As they went in their different directions, Stiles had handed Lydia one of his handguns. She had no other weapon. Derek knew it was unlikely to help against trained werewolf hunters but at least it might give her a running start. He just prayed Stiles wouldn’t need his own gun.

As the hunters were expecting Stiles and the True Alpha, it had been decided they would go to the main entrance and break the seal to get in. Derek went with them because Lydia pointed out that it was unlikely that the hunters would believe Stiles and Scott would go into enemy territory without backup. It was better to go in acting dumb about strategy and create a false sense of security rather than create suspicion. Once they were inside, Stiles would reveal Scott as the True Alpha and keep them distracted with Scott and Derek as menacing blockades while the girls and Isaac came in through the warehouse passage and found the hostages. If all went well, they could sneak them out before being detected and come back round to strengthen the defence and take the hunters out.

It was all too easy. It would never work. Derek had made his opinion clear but as he had no other suggestion, he didn’t put up much of a fight.

Derek assessed the blocked entrance of the bunker, only the doorway visible, the rest of the concrete built into the earth. It would be relatively easy to break open with his and Scott’s combined strength. Once they were, he didn’t know what they would find. They didn’t even know how many people they were going to come across or if the whole thing was one big set up.

They waited outside for twenty minutes or so before Lydia sent Stiles a text saying they had found the passage and would give them fifteen minutes to get inside before they came in to get Malia, Ethan and Jackson out.

‘Come on, Derek, let’s get this open.’

Derek and Scott stood either side of the sealed entrance. There were concrete blocks built up across the thick metal door. They both began pulling the blocks away, tossing them with ease across the grass. When they were all gone, Derek moved to stand on the same side as Scott and they pried the rusted door open. They sighed when a second wall of concrete met them. It had obviously been filled in recently and from the inside.

‘The hunters must have done this.’ Scott said, pressing a hand on the wall.

‘They knew we would come this way.’ Stiles spoke with a hushed voice. ‘Looks like we were right.’

‘We haven’t got time to take it apart.’ Derek said as he moved to stand directly in front of the concrete, pushing Scott out of the way. He looked between the boys silently. They both nodded. Derek steadied himself and punched his fist right through. The wall exploded at his touch and the air filled with a dust. Derek stood back from the mess as rubble fell to the floor, the wall crumbling away.

The moment the cloud of dust had cleared, Stiles readjusted the riffle across his back and surged forward but Derek stopped him with an arm across his chest. He didn’t say anything but gave Stiles a look. Stiles knew what it meant.

Derek entered first, and Scott last, Stiles between them, Derek hoping it might provide him with some safety. The passageway was low, causing them to duck as they shuffled through. The air was still a little dusty but the room at the end was clearly lit with a bright light. When they emerged at the end, the ceiling opened up. They stood straight as they surveyed the room.

The air inside was even thicker with chemicals and Derek’s nose scrunched up at the smell.

‘Where are they? They must know we’re here.’ Scott asked before he coughed.

Derek coughed too. He tried to clear his throat but it was dry and tight. He looked around the room where the walls were lined with shelves holding wooden boxes labelled as containing ammunition. He coughed again.

‘Are you two ok?’ Stiles asked, eyes darting between the two werewolves.

Scott shook his head.

‘I feel like I can’t get enough air.’

Derek felt his own lungs constrict. He knew something was wrong.

‘Oh my god. There’s something in the air, isn’t there?’ Stiles’ voice was panicked. He looked to Derek with wide, fearful eyes. ‘Tell me!’

‘Yes.’ Derek rasped. He could feel his vision blurring as the oxygen in his blood was running low. He could just about see Stiles’ face in front of his own as his knees gave out and he fell to the floor. He saw Scott’s body next to him before his eyes fluttered closed, his mind foggy with the image of Stiles’ terrified face.

xxx

Stiles thought he was going to throw up when Derek and Scott collapsed in front of him. But he didn’t have time to do anything about it before he felt a stinging pain in his neck. He moved his hand up and felt the end of a dart in his flesh and he too dropped, blacking out almost instantly.

He woke again, unsure how much time had passed, tied to a chair. It seemed like a cliché, a typical move for a villain and he would have laughed had he not been so afraid. The room seemed even brighter than before and he squinted his eyes against the burn of his retinas. He could just about tell that Derek and Scott’s bodies had been moved and he had no idea if they were even still alive. He felt a sob about to burst from his chest at the thought that they were dead but a figure moving to his right made him jump. He looked around the room as best he could against the restrictions of the ropes.

‘Hello, Stiles.’

Stiles watched as a figure moved across the bright light, allowing him to open his eyes without such a burn. The man towered over him. His broad shoulders seemed to span Stiles’ entire field of view.

‘Who are you? What have you done with them?’

‘Now, now, Stiles. Calm down. Your fury little friends are still alive.’ The man sunk down until he was eye level with Stiles. His face was heavy with years, hair turning grey, eyes sunk into slightly hollowed sockets. His jaw was wide and sprinkled with stubble. ‘We’ve been waiting a long time for you. We had hoped you would bring the True Alpha to us sooner but it seems you needed a little more persuasion.’

‘Is that why you had Sanchez knock me out and kidnap me?’ Stiles spat, wriggling in his seat as his hands were losing feeling.

‘Elias is sorry about that. He never meant to hurt you. He can just get a little carried away. Isn’t that right?’

Stiles looked over the man’s shoulder as a familiar figure walked through the door.

Sanchez walked to stand by the man’s side. It was the first time Stiles had seen him outside his uniform and he realised how much that uniform had comforted him. No one suspects an officer of a crime.

‘Nice to see you again, Stiles. I hope your head doesn’t hurt too much.’ Sanchez’s voice was thick with sarcasm.

Stiles knew the injury on his head was obvious and it was clear it had caused him a lot of pain.

‘I’m feeling nice and peachy.’ He, too, spoke with sarcasm. ‘It’s a shame you took away my gun. I could have made you feel just as peachy as I do.’ Stiles gave a smile, his eyes sharp as daggers.

‘Now, now, Stiles.’ the taller man began. ‘Elias is sorry. Let’s just say it wasn’t part of the plan for you to get hurt.’ The man stood from his crouched position. ‘I’m sorry, too. I should have already introduced myself. Charles Griswold.’ He extended his hand and then laughed when he realised that, of course, Stiles could not reciprocate. ‘Again, sorry.’

Stiles had a distinct feeling he was not sorry at all. Stiles tried to move against his bound wrists again and the rope rubbed painfully against his skin.

‘I don’t give a shit who you are. What have you done to Derek and Scott?’

‘Oh don’t worry about them.’ Charles said, moving across the room to a table which was laden with weapons, rope and bottles of what Stiles assumed was solvent. ‘We just pumped a little mountain ash into the air. We didn’t want them being a problem. We may be werewolf hunters but it’s best to avoid physical confrontation wherever possible. We’re only human, after all.’

‘What do you want with them?’

‘I knew you were interested really.’ Charles gave him a smile that could have almost been called fond. ‘From what Elias has been telling us, you’ve been trying to figure out who we are for quite some time.’

‘He was using me for information, wasn’t he? Weren’t you?’ Stiles turned his heated gaze towards Sanchez who simple smirked.

‘You really thought I wanted to spend time with you?’ Sanchez asked in disbelief. Stiles felt a little stupid. He had thought Sanchez was hitting on him. ‘Oh you did.’ Sanchez laughed. ‘Poor, silly Stiles. You were just a pawn in our game.’ he said, stroking a hand down Stiles’ cheek. Stiles jerked away. ‘When we arrived in Beacon Hills, we had no idea who you were. I have law enforcement training so it seemed like a good idea to join the local station so I could keep tabs on what the officers knew about us. It made it really easy to fool that old man of yours. And meeting you was like icing on the cake. I could tell there was something different about you, that you knew more than you were letting on. From the first time we met, when you brought all that research to the station, I knew. You were already on to us and that’s how I knew you were one of them. I thought you could have been a werewolf yourself until I realised how weak and pathetic you are. You were our lead. We knew we’d find the True Alpha through you and we did. So thank you, Stiles. Thank you for being so gullible.’ Sanchez said with a snarl of a smile. ‘You are rather pretty though. In a weird kind of way I guess I was attracted to you.’ His hand slipped down from his cheek to his chest and down further.

‘Elias.’ Charles said in a warning voice. ‘I don’t think Juliet would like that.’

‘No, I wouldn’t mind.’ a female voice said from the doorway. Sanchez looked over his shoulder and smiled. A woman, about the same age as Sanchez, slipped over to him and he stood straight, sliding his arm around her. She giggled and hugged him around the waist. ‘I might be interested in a threesome.’

‘Enough.’ Charles snapped.

The girl snarled a little and Stiles got the feeling she was the rebellious one of the group.

‘You never let me have any fun.’

‘I would if you could control yourself.’

‘It was only one time.’ she hissed, moving across the room to where Charles was examining a gun. ‘He wasn’t meant to die but what does it matter? It was just some kid.’

‘Some kid that could have blown our cover.’

Juliet let out a frustrated growl and slunk away.

‘As interesting as this is, I’d rather know what the hell you want with me so I can hurry up and leave.’ Stiles knew it might not be the best idea to be derisive or snarky when he was tied to a chair, completely defenceless in a room full of werewolf hunters with weapons, but his natural sarcasm was the only thing keeping him calm.

‘Don’t worry, Stiles. I’m going to explain everything to you. But first, there are some more people I want you to meet.’ Stiles watched as two more people came in through the door. The first was a man who looked very similar to Charles but much younger. He was impeccably dressed, his clothes crisp and clean which seemed odd against the damp surroundings of the bunker. Behind him was another woman, similar to Juliet but older. At first it was hard to see the similarity between them because of a disfiguration to the left side of the woman’s face. The skin was blistered with a large scar, knotted, mangled and ugly. But her eyes held the same fire that Juliet’s did as she looked around the room with anticipation. ‘Stiles, this is my son, Henry and you’ve already met my daughter Juliet. Elias is my son in law and this is my beautiful wife, Clarissa.’ Charles raised a loving hand to her face, stroking the disfigured cheek as though it only made her more beautiful in his eyes. Stiles would have been touched by the sentimentality were he not bound and at risk of losing his life to the family stood before him. ‘My brother, Andrew, will be joining us soon. We’ve all been looking forward to meeting you.’

‘Why? What do you want?’

‘You know what we want.’ Sanchez spat.

‘We’ve been waiting for you to bring the True Alpha to us. We had hoped you would reveal who it was to Elias. He’s been trying very hard to make friends but you’ve been a little stubborn, it seems.’

‘He’s a psychopath. You all are!’ Stiles pulled at the ropes again but felt a sharp tug at the back of his head.

‘Hold still!’ Juliet had him by the hair, yanking his head back so he could see her looking down at him from behind.

‘Let him go, Juliet.’ Henry spoke calmly. So far he seemed the most normal of the group. He didn’t have the same wild look in his eyes but a calculating expression, as though he were assessing the situation and all possible scenarios for the evening. Stiles, too, was trying to imagine how the evening might pan out. He had no idea if Lydia and the others had made it inside or if Malia, Ethan and Jackson were even still alive. Derek and Scott didn’t seem to be around either. If he managed to escape he might very well end up leaving them all behind and he knew he wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he did.

Juliet let go of his hair and Stiles’ head dropped forward.

‘I’m sorry, Stiles. This was not how is was meant to go. We never wanted to hurt you.’ Charles said, looking sincere. ‘We just wanted the True Alpha. But you weren’t cooperating quickly enough so we had to take things into our own hands.’

‘Like kidnapping Malia?’

‘Ah, yes. She was feisty. We’ve had trouble with her.’

‘Fucking little bitch.’ Juliet snarled. ‘Always trying something. I can’t wait to put a bullet between her eyes.’

‘The time will come, sweetheart.’ Charles said soothingly.

‘You trust her with a gun?’ Henry asked scathingly, still no sign of any emotion on his face. He was cool as ice.

‘Shut it, you little shit.’

‘Enough.’ Clarissa said coolly. It was the first word she had spoken and it was so quiet Stiles could easily have missed it. But Henry and Juliet were silent at her command. Henry even stood a little straighter, the only sign that he was anything other than completely nonchalant. Charles may do all the talking but his wife was clearly in charge.

‘Thank you, my love.’ Charles smiled at her fondly and turned back to Stiles. ‘This may all seem a little confusing to you, Stiles but it will all be clear soon. My family and I, as I’m sure you’ve already figured out, are hunters. The Griswold’s have been hunting werewolves for many centuries. We descend from Germany where our ancestors fought to keep the peace in their small villages, protecting the people from monstrous beasts that apparently stole children from their beds during full moons. But we were not always hunters. Hundreds of years ago our family were affluent and important people in their town. But Peter Griswold, our ancestor, was bitten and suspected of being a werewolf. He was sentenced to death, damning our family name. But it wasn’t long before our real name, Griswold became lost over the more gruesome “Stumpp”.’ Charles laughed bitterly. ‘He had his paw cut off during a full moon when he was on a rampage and became known as Stumpp because it was all that was left.’

‘So I’ve heard.’ Stiles said with an eye roll.

Charles ignored the interruption and turned his back to Stiles as he spoke, messing with something on the long table of weapons. It made Stiles’ pulse leap.

‘He did terrible things, you know. I don’t blame the people in the town for killing him. He was a monster. Did you know he murdered several women and children? He also turned to cannibalism.’ Charles said over his shoulder, looking at Stiles with a raised brow. ‘Truly horrifying. But the worst of it all was what happened after he was killed. His wife and daughter, the only family he had left after he killed and devoured his own son, were also sentenced to death. His wife for bearing his children and his daughter for having been raped by him. Just think about that injustice. So many innocent people killed all because of the actions of one man. One werewolf.’ Charles, his voice so far calm and eerily pleasant, turned hard. His shoulders hunched over the table. ‘But the things he did, the crimes he committed and the murderous rages he would fall into, they weren’t the actions of just any werewolf. Normal werewolves can control their shifts. They are powerful but their minds are still their own. But Peter was no normal werewolf.’ Charles faced Stiles from across the room. His expression had clouded over. ‘I think you know what he was, Stiles.’

Stiles held Charles’ gaze for as long as he dared. He felt the sweat building on the back of his neck go cold against the damp, chilly air.

‘A True Alpha.’

‘Clever boy.’ Juliet said mockingly, stroking a hand over his hair. ‘A disgusting, ravenous _beast_.’

‘We came here to find your friend Scott. We had heard about a True Alpha in the area and knew we had to find him. We knew you had figured out we were looking for something. You so helpfully explained all your ideas to Elias. You knew we’d been moving across America in search of something and that something was True Alphas.’

‘Why? Scott’s never done anything like what Peter did!’

‘Silence.’ Clarissa snapped and even Stiles felt an uncontrollable urge to do as she commanded. ‘All True Alphas must die. They are dangerous. They are unnatural.’

‘They’re all unnatural, if you ask me.’ Sanchez said, eyeing Stiles suspiciously.

‘Unnatural but oh so interesting.’ Henry chimed in, leaning against the wall his with arms crossed. ‘I wouldn’t mind doing some experiments on the alpha.’ he said, directed towards his parents.

‘We’ll discuss that later.’ Clarissa said quietly and Henry nodded.

‘Clarissa is right.’ Charles continued, moving towards Stiles again with his hands behind his back, pacing the room as though he were giving a lecture at the front of a class room rather than explaining his criminal lifestyle to a victim he soon planned to kill. Or so Stiles assumed. ‘True Alphas are far more dangerous than normal werewolves. Even regular alphas can’t compare to their size, strength, hunger and animalistic instinct. They are more animal than human.’

‘That’s not true!’

Juliet grabbed at Stiles’ hair again, pulling his head back and holding a blade to his hot flesh.

Charles surveyed the scene for a moment before starting up again, unaffected by the threat to Stiles’ life.

‘Stiles, you clearly have not seen the potential of a True Alpha. You have only ever seen Scott use his heightened powers for good. But these powers are overwhelming. They are there to be discovered, unlocked and used. But unfortunately, the temptation to use them for self-gain is one far greater than any human being can resist. Your friend has been able to control his power and strength but it won’t be long before he gives in to the urge of his stronger animal instincts. They call to him, dragging him further and further into the wildness of his mind. Peter was turned and tried to fight against the pull of the wolf but he drowned in its power. Scott will too. It’s only fair to end him before he can destroy those he loves. We’re doing this to save countless lives.’

‘He’s a teenage boy!’ Stiles cried, unable to believe the inanity of what he was hearing. Their twisted, hypocritical beliefs reminded him sickeningly of Gerard. ‘He’s never hurt anyone. All he’s ever tried to do since he was bitten is save those who need his help! He’s the most loving person I’ve ever met!’

‘These are honourable and kind words for a dear friend but give him a few more years and he’ll make you wish you’d never met.’

‘That’s not true!’

‘I’m sorry, Stiles. It is.’ Charles looked honestly saddened by the things he was saying.

‘So, is that why you killed that guy from New Mexico.’ Stiles said, looking to Sanchez. ‘He was a True Alpha as well?’

‘Now, now, Stiles, you’re getting ahead of yourself.’ Sanchez said with a smirk. ‘It’s a little more complex than you might think. Álvaro was never the one we wanted. He was simply mixed up in things he shouldn’t have been. A lot like you actually. He was friends with a group of werewolves and followed their alpha as if he were one of them. We tracked the pack down and managed to kill a few of the betas but we never found the alpha. We let Álvaro live because we knew he might be useful later on.’

‘So you shot him just for fun?’

Henry chuckled from across the room.

‘We can’t be _all_ work and no play.’

Stiles felt sick. These people were insane.

‘You know, Stiles, it’s really your fault that poor Álvaro had to die. If only you hadn’t been sticking your nose in places it didn’t belong, he might still be alive.’

‘You killed him to keep him quiet.’ Stiles said under his breath. They had killed him because Stiles wanted to have him questioned about the case. Stiles had inadvertently ended a man’s life. He was sure he was going to be sick. But he didn’t want to give them the satisfaction. ‘And what about the other cases I found? You were using silver bullets all those times too. Why? Was that just for _fun_ , as well?’

‘Yes, we like to have a little fun doing what we do.’ Henry said with a small grin on his otherwise stony face. ‘It can become a little dull sometimes. There aren’t that many True Alphas around so when the possibility of one arises, we like to play around for a while first. It’s usually to get the packs in the area out into the open. They come out to investigate and that’s when we assess whether or not there’s a True Alpha in the mix. Obviously, more often than not these isn’t. But we can’t risk letting one slip through.’

‘So you killed innocent people, just because one of them might have been a True Alpha? How does that make you any better than Peter?!’

‘Because we are fighting for something much bigger than the lives of a few werewolves and civilians.’ Clarissa spoke with command and severity. ‘We are here to protect the world from the horrors of the supernatural. We would kill them all if we could but we must prioritise.’

‘You’re fucking crazy, lady.’ Stiles said with a desperate laugh.

‘You little shit!’ Juliet pressed the blade harder against his throat, just enough to cut the skin. ‘Don’t you dare speak to my mother that way.’ she hissed. ‘Ok, enough is enough. He doesn’t need the whole fucking explanation. We’re just gonna kill them all anyway.’

‘But he does need to know. He needs to know because he has a choice, my darling.’ Charles said, squatting before Stiles again. He shooed Juliet and her blade away. ‘Stiles, I want to explain all of this to you because I want you to understand. You are smart and you understand the supernatural world. You’ve seen the horrors of it and experienced them yourself, I’m sure.’ Stiles could not help but agree. He had felt the power and known its temptations. He knew how good it could feel to kill, even if it had not truly been himself. ‘We want you to join us. Help us defeat this evil and protect the world from horrors that maybe even you have yet to face. I know you want to do the right thing but your friends are simply a minor bump in the road to saving mankind. I know it’s a lot to take in right now, but you could be a great asset to our little team.’

‘So let me get this straight. You want me to help you kill my friends, including my best friend-’

‘Don’t forget your little boyfriend.’ Sanchez interjected with a cold smirk. ‘Don’t forget, we know all about your secret little affair. It was rather sweet watching you two sneak around like a couple of kids. It was almost fun.’ Stiles shivered, not sure he wanted to know how Sanchez managed to spy on them or how much he saw. ‘I’m sure daddy Stilinski wouldn’t be very happy to know about what his baby boy has been doing with a big, bad wolf. He’ll probably thank us for killing the beast and saving his son from being mauled to death.’ Stiles narrowed his eyes but his heart hammered in fear that he might never see Derek again. He might never get to tell him how he really felt. He felt tears prickle in his eyes as the realisation dawned on him that they may both die before Stiles had the chance to tell Derek that he might be completely, irrevocably and stupidly in love with him.

Stiles steeled himself. He would not let that happen.

‘You want me to join you in killing innocent people just because your family suffered at the hands of a deranged werewolf? You can’t expect me to agree to that! What happened to his wife and children is horrific but that’s not Scott. You can’t assume all True Alphas are like Peter was.’

‘This is a waste of time.’ Clarissa snapped, folding her arms and moving to the weapons table. ‘I told you this wasn’t worth keeping him alive for.’

Stiles felt bile in his throat as she picked up a gun from the table but he jumped in his seat as a loud yell and bang sounded from another room in the bunker. Another man then appeared, presumably Andrew, looking alarmed. He held a gun in hand, the other clasped around Lydia’s wrist.

‘Charlie, don’t trust that little fucker. His buddies snuck in and let the hostages go!’

‘What?!’ Clarissa screamed, running out of the room, closely followed by her daughter.

Charles stood and glowered down at Stiles.

‘You’ve disappointed me, Stiles. I thought we could have made this work but it seems not.’

He then left the room as Andrew dragged Lydia over to him, tying her to another chair that had been sat against the wall behind Stiles’ back.

‘Lydia, are you ok?’ he asked in a panic. She nodded, face scrunched up as the rough rope was tied around her wrists.

‘I’m fine. I’d be better if this _oaf_ would get his grubby hands off of me!’ She jerked away from Andrew but he grabbed her throat and forced her into submission.

‘Hold still, bitch. Don’t make me break your pretty little neck.’

‘Get off of her!’ Stiles shouted, kicking against his own chair.

‘Shut up!’

Andrew let go of her throat and finished tightening the knots. He pushed her chair in line with Stiles’ with one foot and left the room. Henry and Sanchez were still with them but they seemed preoccupied at the table of weapons.

‘What happened?’ Stiles hissed quietly. Lydia sighed, looking frazzled and a little afraid.

‘We got in ok and found Jackson and the others. You were right. They had them this whole time!’ She also spoke quietly but the adrenaline they were both feeling was clear in her tone. ‘We managed to break the chains they’d been using to tie Malia and Jackson up – some form of mountain ash on them as Malia’s wrists are in tatters - but Ethan’s been drugged with something. He was out cold. Malia said he was brought in like that and took weeks to come around properly. They kept drugging him to keep him submissive but it seems to have almost killed him. Isaac and Jackson had to carry him out. It took so long that by the time we got Malia out, that brute found us. He came in through the warehouse entrance. Malia and Ethan are out, I have no idea what happened to Allison and Isaac and Jackson are still in the other room.’ She looked close to tears as she finished. ‘Oh god, that are they gonna do to them? To us?!’

‘It’s ok, calm down. Isaac and Jackson are strong.’

‘What happened to Derek and Scott? If they took them down there isn’t any hope for Isaac and Jackson!’

Stiles didn’t want to admit it was true. Isaac had a fair amount of practice using his powers, having trained with Derek, but he was still not ready to take on a challenge like this. And Jackson had been living in London with no one to train him at all.

‘They put mountain ash in the air when we got here. It’s probably all gone now but it was enough to knock them out. I have no idea where they are.’

‘Oh god.’ Lydia whispered. ‘What about you? Are you ok?’

‘I’m fine. They’ve been trying to get me to join them.’

‘Join them in what?’

‘Well, we were right about the True Alpha theory. They’ve been on the hunt for True Alphas for years. They think they’re more wolf than man and should be killed.’

‘They want to kill Scott?’ She sounded truly afraid, as though the realisation that Scott could really be in danger had only just occurred to her. ‘So what have they been doing? Shooting random kids with silver bullets as a joke?’

‘It seems so.’ Stiles said bitterly. ‘They’ve been trying to lure the True Alpha out, not knowing who it was and they seem to have made a game out of it.’

‘And the solvents?’

‘Haven’t gotten an explanation for that yet. But I have a feeling the woman has something to do with that. Her face is-’

Stiles was cut off when Andrew came barrelling back in with Jackson under his arm, a cloth held over Jackson’s mouth and nose. His body looked heavy and lax as he stumbled to keep up with the hunter’s long strides. Andrew dropped him to the floor opposite Stiles and Lydia where Jackson leant against the wall, gasping for breath. Charles followed with Isaac in much the same manner. The brothers left again, followed by Sanchez and Henry, giving Stiles a chance to speak openly.

‘Isaac, Jackson, are you ok? What did they do to you?’

Isaac looked up, his head lolling, chin pressed against the top of his sternum.

‘…m-mountain…ash.’ he gasped.

‘They must have a liquid form on those cloths to drug them.’ Lydia explained, indicating with her head at the cloths on the floor. ‘What the hell do we do now?’

Before Stiles could answer, the hunters returned, this time with Scott and Derek. They were both being hauled into the room, a hunter on either side of them, holding up their dead weights.

‘What have you done to them?!’ Stiles asked once again.

‘Stop yapping and calm down.’ Juliet spat with a deep scowl which turned into a sickening smile. ‘They’re still alive. For now.’

She flounced away and Stiles tried to pull himself free on instinct at the sight of his best friend and the man he loved unconscious on the floor.

‘Scott, Derek! Can you hear me? Wake up! _Please!_ ’

Scott groaned from where he lay, his smaller body and more considerable power processing the drugs, presumably another form of mountain ash, a little faster than Derek.

‘He’s coming around!’

‘Scott, buddy it’s me. I need you to wake up!’

As Stiles begged Scott to push through the effects of the drugs, the room filled with the sound of a mobile ringing.

‘What the fuck is that?’ Juliet asked, eyes darting around the room. Charles moved across to the table where several mobile phones sat. One was clearly buzzing across the table top. It was Stiles’. ‘How the hell is it ringing? None of ours have signal down here.’

‘The door’s been blown open.’ Henry informed. ‘The thick concrete and metal of the door were stopping any phone networks from working in here but the werewolf punched through it.’

Charles picked up the phone and hurriedly walked towards Stiles.

‘It’s the Sheriff. Tell him-’ He didn’t finish as the phone stopped ringing. Charles spoke quickly. ‘He’s guaranteed to call again. When he does, I want you to talk to him and tell him everything is ok. If you’ve told him where you were going tonight tell him you were wrong. Make sure he doesn’t come here or I _swear_ he will die. And if I think you’re trying to send any sort of message to him, Drew here is going to start pouring.’ Stiles looked to his left where Andrew, “Drew”, was holding an opened bottle of something that stung the inside of Stiles’ nose. It was a smell Stiles instantly recognised as concentrated hydrochloric acid. ‘So, what d’you say?’ Stiles felt tears stinging behind his eyes. He couldn’t risk his father getting hurt even if it might save them from almost certain death. Stiles seemed to take too long to answer as Drew tipped the bottle and a drop of acid landed on Stiles’ jeans. It burnt through the material and onto his skin. Stiles hissed at the burning pain. ‘If you refuse, I’ll make sure your pretty little boyfriend gets a good dousing off it too.’ Charles jerked his head towards Derek who was still unconscious on the floor. Drew moved towards him just as Stiles’ phone began to ring again.

‘No! Please, don’t! I’ll do it! I’ll do it, just please don’t hurt him.’ Stiles could hear his voice cracking with emotion. Charles laughed.

‘Good. Now you know what to say?’ Stiles nodded vigorously, fighting back a threatening sob.

‘If any of you lot make a sound, I’ll make you swallow the lot.’ Drew snarled, holding up the bottle for Lydia, Isaac and Jackson to see.

Charles answered the phone and held it up to Stiles’ ear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaahhhh! I hope you enjoyed it!  
> Coming up:  
> Stiles realises that the hunters don't plan to let any of them escape with their lives and knows he has to find a way out to save those he loves most. But he might have to sacrifice his own life to do so.


	40. Spark

Friday, 27th March

Malia had known something was happening the moment she heard the sound of the blocked entrance being blown open. She had jerked out of the half sleep she had fallen into, her coyote instincts kicking in. She had listened to the sound of several voices and heard two large objects hit the floor. She called to Ethan across the room but he had recently been injected with a dose of mountain ash and was out for the count. Jackson, the recent addition to their group, was also on high alert, scanning the room with glowing blue eyes.

They sat in silence, ears pricked up for any sound. Malia could hear the sound of something heavy being dragged across the floor and laughter. She knew Juliet had taken her phone above ground to send a message to someone. She had made sure to flaunt it in Malia’s face, teasing her with the possibility of being rescued. She had ignored her though, her threats becoming a daily occurrence. But this time it seemed she had been telling the truth. Someone really had come to save them but the hunters had planned ahead. Whoever had come to help them had been caught already.

She was so deeply focused on listening through the wall for any sign of activity that she jumped out of her skin when the door to their room creaked open. Her heart held in her chest as she waited to see who it was. It began beating rapidly with relief when she saw familiar faces.

Isaac, Lydia and Allison were the last people she expected to see but she was so glad someone was there to save her she didn’t think twice about it, even Allison. The last she had known, Allison was in a coma after the effects of the Nogitsune. But there was no time to ask about any of that as they set about breaking the chains holding Malia captive to the wall. She had tried on many occasions to break them but her strength was noticeably depleted. She could only guess they had put something in the food to lessen her powers but her need for sustenance overwhelmed her desire to forego food for the sake of breaking her chains. But with Isaac there, with full strength, she was finally free. Isaac helped her up, placing the chains quietly down on the stone floor – despite the light coating of mountain ash on them which burnt his skin like fire - to avoid alerting the hunters to their presence. He then moved to Jackson and looked a little unwilling to break the chains but one hard look from Lydia had him pulling them away from the wall. Ethan, still unconscious, was more of a problem. While his weight was no problem for Isaac’s strength, his dangling limbs were hard to keep still and they needed to move fast if they were going to get out of there alive.

Allison took Malia to the passage which led to the inside of a warehouse. She didn’t question it, knowing they didn’t have time to mess about. The two girls then waited on the other side as Isaac carried Ethan, climbing up the ladder with the werewolf slung across his shoulder like a rag doll. Once above ground, he carried Ethan outside, hiding his body down the dip of the valley. Malia and Allison followed, guarding him while Isaac went back to help Lydia with Jackson.

Malia breathed in the cool, fresh air and could have cried with relief. She kept low, legs bent at the knee despite her desire to stand, walk, run, and stretch. She needed to feel her new found freedom but knew they had to stay hidden. They sat waiting for the others for a long time. Allison began to fidget, peering over the grassy verge. It wasn’t long before they both knew something was wrong.

xxx

Stiles was almost sure his father knew something was up. He had tried to talk normally, impressing even himself at his level tone, but his father knew him better than anyone and Stiles feared he would find them and Charles would stay true to his word. Stiles hadn’t tried to give his dad any sort of message. He didn’t dare risk it in fear of being burnt with acid, or worse, Derek suffering the same fate.

They sat in silence as the hunters spoke around the table. Stiles could feel Jackson’s eyes on him. He was obviously surprised by the revelation that Stiles and Derek had been an item. Isaac already knew and Stiles was pretty sure Lydia had worked it out long ago. But he didn’t have time to worry about that. He also found he didn’t care who knew. All he wanted was to get Derek out in one piece and hold him and kiss him and never stop loving him.

Scott had begun to come round. He was slumped against the wall to Stiles’ left, his head lying to one side. Derek was near the door, on his back. Stiles could see the rise and fall of his chest but knew they might not have much time left before he was drugged again or killed outright. He needed to think and he needed to think fast. He just hoped Allison was still ok. They needed her if they were going to get out alive.

Stiles tried to ignore the burning on his thigh. It wasn’t serious but would leave a mild scar. It made him wonder how Clarissa had gotten hers. It looked deep and hard, the skin clear of pours and natural blemishes. It stretched up to her eye and Stiles noticed the slightly glazed over look, clouded grey. She must have suffered some sight loss from whatever had damaged her skin.

Juliet caught him staring and grabbed his chin in her fingers.

‘You’re a nosy little shit, aren’t you?’ She lowered her face to his, standing at his side and speaking close to his ear as she, too, watched her mother across the room ‘Wondering how she got it? I think you know.’ She ran her fingers down his leg, stopping at the hole in his jeans and pressing into the damaged flesh. Stiles hissed in pain. Juliet laughed. ‘Let’s just say, mommy got a little carried away with some chemicals and had a little accident. But it was unavoidable really. We’ve got to dispose of the bodies somehow, haven’t we? Can’t leave any evidence behind. It won’t be long before you, too, are nothing more than a pool of chemicals and bloody flesh.’

‘Darling, don’t get too ahead of yourself.’ Charles said as he passed. ‘We’ll get to that. But first we need to find the girl. She got out.’

Juliet shot up, snarling.

‘That little bitch.’

‘Don’t worry. We’ll find her.’ Charles looked to Stiles. ‘It’s a shame your friends tried to ruin our plans. Although, I suppose we don’t need them anymore; we’ve got what we want now. We had hoped Malia would be able to tell us who the True Alpha was. We followed her out of Beacon Hills shortly after we arrived here. We knew what she was almost instantly. I recognised that independence, that pull to nature. She’s a wild one. Took four of us to get her down. But she refused to talk. Even when we threatened her she wouldn’t utter a word. But then we found Ethan. We thought he might have been the one we were looking for. He’s an impressive beast but we couldn’t tell if he were the one we wanted. Unfortunately, we’ve had to keep him drugged. He was too strong. And Jackson, well, that one’s on you, Stiles. You just wouldn’t give us what we wanted. We needed a little more ammo to get you moving.’

‘Stiles, don’t listen. It’s not your fault.’ Lydia said quietly, shaking her head.

‘That’s very sweet of you, Lydia, but your pretty boyfriend has mountain ash pumping through his veins as we speak because you buddy Stiles didn’t act fast enough. All we wanted was Scott. But now we have to get rid of all of you. You’ve made a lot of work for us, Stiles.’

‘Charles, this is taking too long. We have the True Alpha, let’s do this.’ Clarissa said impatiently.

‘Of course, my love.’

Stiles began to panic. They were about to kill Scott, right in front of him?! He needed to stall them, to give Allison or Malia, his father, anyone some more time to save them!

‘How did you manage to keep hidden for so long? You said you arrived just before Malia left Beacon Hills. That was months ago.’

‘I think you know how, Stiles.’ Sanchez spoke up, twirling a handgun around his finger. ‘You’ve been trying to undermine me for a while now. I have to admit, it all seemed a little too easy. My greatest worry was simply keeping away from here as much as possible to avoid smelling of solvents so that your mutt of a boyfriend or the alpha wouldn’t smell it on me and suspect anything. My job was simple really; altering those documents, keeping Urzua quiet. But it was all going too well. And then I come back from picking up an order from out of town to find out you’ve been snooping and telling your daddy stories. You had to make things difficult, didn’t you? You’re lucky Charles talked me out of killing you that day.’

‘An order?’ Stiles asked, trying to keep him talking, the rest of the hunters listening in.

Sanchez looked unsure if he should say any more but his obvious desire to divulge their entire devious plot was evidently too much to resist.

‘Yes, I had to go out of town to collect some supplies.’

‘What supplies?’

‘If you must know, the acid we’re going to use to dissolve your bodies and the solvent we’ve been using to hide from you werewolf friends’ noses. It wasn’t difficult to take over the warehouse.’ he said, pointing to the ceiling where above them the warehouse stocked all sorts of cleaning supplies. ‘We just threatened to burn the place to the ground.’ He laughed. ‘It didn’t take much to persuade them after that. It was a good hiding place. Underground, not visible above ground or even marked on most modern maps. And having the warehouse above not only provided us with some of the chemicals we needed but also masked our collective scent. It seemed as though Beacon Hills had set this all up for us. But the warehouse didn’t have much of what we wanted. We ran out pretty quickly. Any time anyone left the bunker or used one of the guns, they had to douse their clothes and weapons in solvents. We couldn’t risk your buddies finding us.’ Sanchez lifted his gun to his nose and had a quick sniff. ‘Chlorobenzene. Its strong smelling stuff. But you know all about that, don’t you.’ he said, looking between Stiles and Lydia. ‘We watched the security videos and saw you make your own little purchase. We were pretty impressed you figured that one out.’

Stiles only half listened as he watched Charles and Drew approach Scott. Drew dragged him up off the floor while Charles wiped the blade of a large dagger with a cloth. He looked at it almost lovingly.

‘Enough of that now, Elias. We’ve got to finish what we started and get moving. We’ve been here long enough.’

Sanchez nodded and stepped aside, allowing Stiles and Lydia clear view of Drew pulling Scott’s head back by his hair.

‘Hurry. Do it while he’s still drowsy.’ Clarissa insisted.

‘No, please! Stop!’ Stiles begged, pulling at his constraints in vain.

Lydia too cried out but to no avail. If he could have taken his eyes off of Scott for just a moment he would have seen Isaac and Jackson also starring with horror in their eyes as Charles raised the blade.

‘This is for our family. This is for our people. This is for mankind.’

Stiles didn’t see the blade slice through flesh. He did see the black blood bubble around metal. He shut his eyes and screamed. He felt his eyes burn with hateful tears and he sobbed loudly.

‘Oh god! Isaac!’ Lydia cried, the sound forcing Stiles’ eyes open. They darted around the room, landing on Charles who lay on the floor, Isaac over him. The blade was nowhere to be seen but Henry and Sanchez ran towards them, hoisting Isaac up off of Charles and throwing him to the ground where he hit his back against the shelves lining the walls. Doing so knocked over the bottle of hydrochloric acid Drew had used to threaten Stiles with earlier. The lid had not been sealed and the acid spilled over the shelf, dripping all over the wooden boxes where it burnt through with ease.

Stiles gasped at the sight of the blade deep in Isaac’s gut. He had used a surge of strength to throw himself at Charles, saving Scott from an almost instant death but injuring himself in the process. The mountain ash still within his blood stream zapped him of any further strength and he was easily dragged back to the wall, the laced blade still deep within his abdomen.

‘Fuck! Hurry up. Get the blade and try again!’ Clarissa demanded.

‘No, pass me the gun.’ Charles said with a tight voice, clearly winded.

‘Not silver bullets this time I assume.’ Stiles spat.

‘Not this time, no.’ Henry smirked, passing the gun to his father. ‘Just don’t splatter. You know I hate mess.’

Charles took the gun, cocking it and held it in line with Scott’s temple. Scott had woken up during the scuffle and was now panting with rage. His eyes glowed red and Stiles felt a flicker of hope. Derek, too, had begun to come through, having rolled onto his side, surveying the scene with half lidded eyes.

‘Scott, fight back!’ Stiles cried and Scott didn’t need telling twice. He pulled against Drew’s grip, shoving him back against the shelves. Drew went easily, clearly not expecting Scott to have regained so much of his strength already. Charles took several steps back and aimed the gun. But Scott swiped out, sending the gun flying.

The sound of a gun firing filled the air and Stiles’ head snapped to the right where Clarissa held another gun. The bullet had hit Scott in the leg but it was clearly a silver bullet as it did nothing to stop him. She fired again but this time missed. Charles scrabbled across the floor behind Stiles and Lydia, round to Isaac, where he pulled the blade from his flesh. Isaac gasped at the pain and doubled over. With Scott facing Clarissa, he didn’t see the blade come down into his side. Scott howled and ripped the blade out. He spun around and Stiles saw his strength diminish as the mountain ash that had been on the blade began to take effect.

Stiles’ breath caught as he feared the worst. Juliet came up behind Scott and raised a leg, kicking him back down to the ground. Charles laughed and grabbed for the blade as it dropped from Scott’s grasp. But as he raised it a third time, something dark flashed across Stiles peripheral and Charles was slammed to the concrete floor. Stiles looked up to see Derek, heavily panting, claws and teeth bared. Stiles could have cried with happiness.

A moment later, a high whistle stung his ears and Juliet went stumbling to the floor, a single arrow buried deep in her shoulder. In the doorway stood Allison, her bow and arrow drawn. She let off another shot, hitting Sanchez this time as he made for the main entrance. He fell too, the arrow sinking into his ankle.

With the distractions, Derek managed to grab Charles, pinning him against the wall. It was only then that Stiles realised Allison’s father was also standing at the door, his gun raised. He moved into the room and aimed at Charles as Derek held him still. A second later, Charles was dead.

Stiles was almost deafened by the sound of Clarissa screaming. She charged at Chris with her own gun, shooting just between his feet. He easily dodged her poor aim and used the back end of his gun to knock her down. She collapsed and fell silent. Drew, on the other hand, had picked himself up and was dragging Scott back towards the wall of shelves. Isaac lay nearby, still weak while his body worked overtime to heal. Jackson looked as though he were trying to stand, his body swaying.

Allison ran to Lydia and cut her ropes, dragging her out of the chair.

‘Come on, we’ve got to go. Help me with him.’ She pointed to Jackson and with Lydia’s help, hauled him to his feet and hurried to the main entrance passageway.

Sanchez, nursing his injured ankle by the beginning of the passage, held a gun up to stop them but the pain was clearly overpowering his senses as he could barely hold the weapon straight and they slipped past him. Stiles watched the scene with a strained neck, only just able to see the girls’ and Jackson’s bid for freedom. He just wished someone would untie him so he could do something to help.

As if reading his thoughts, Derek, Isaac supported between himself and Chris, sliced through the ropes with his claws.

‘Hurry, Stiles, get out of here!’

Stiles jumped up from the chair and ran after them. But as he reached the passageway, a hand wrapped around his arm, dragging him back. He stumbled to the floor, hitting his chin off the concrete.

‘Where d’you think you’re going?’ Juliet hissed, pulling him up by the back of his shirt. He felt another, stronger hand grasp his neck as he was hoisted up, onto his knees. ‘Your precious little Scott is miraculously still alive. I want you to watch as Drew kills him. I want you to see the blood drain from his body. Your little boyfriend helped killed my father and now we’re going to kill your best friend.’

‘Juliet, just kill him already!’  Henry snapped. He finally sounded as insane as all the others.

‘No! He has to pay for what he’s done!’ Stiles could see Scott was in pain. He was clutching his side where the wound from the blade was still open, trying to heal against the blackened blood. Drew had him held up again but was without the blade or gun. He looked unsure where to turn. ‘Henry, hold him.’

‘What?’

‘Hold him!’ she screamed, shoving Stiles down as she ran across the room to grab the gun from the floor near where her father lay dead. Stiles watched as she marched up to Scott. ‘I’m going to kill him myself.’

Stiles knew he didn’t have much time, a few seconds at the most. Ahead of him he could see Sanchez’ gun. Sanchez himself was gone, his gun left on the ground near the entrance to the passageway. Henry had a light grip on his arm, as though he were something too dirty to touch. Stiles knew what he needed to do. He’d been toying with the idea for several minutes but had prayed for another way out.

He took a deep breath.

This was it.

Only one chance.

The moment the breath passed his lips, Stiles was moving. He elbowed Henry in the ribs and got to his feet. He ran to the gun and swiped it from the floor. Juliet had the blade high in her hand. Stiles raised the gun and aimed. The small amount of training he’d gotten from his father paid off. The bullet made contact with Drew’s right arm, tearing through the clothes and skin. Scott dropped from his grasp and Stiles dove forward and pulled him away. Juliet reached out but Stiles was too fast. He shoved Scott towards the exit where, thankfully, Derek had returned. Derek grabbed Scott and ran with him down towards the open bunker entrance. Stiles walked backwards in the same direction, gun still held up.

‘Elias should have killed you when he had the chance.’ Juliet growled. She made to run at him with the blade but Stiles’ finger was already pressing on the trigger for a second time.

The scene seemed to move in slow motion as the bullet sailed past Juliet, swirling through the air, over Drew’s head where he had sunk to the floor, right arm cradled in his left, and hit one of the boxes on the shelf with a small spark. There seemed to be a split second of a pause, in which Stiles tried to run, before the entire room exploded.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Coming up:  
> "He couldn't lose him. Not like he lost Paige. He couldn't go through that again."


	41. The Only One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!!  
> I am so sorry for the long delay! I'm a terrible person, I know!  
> I was going to update about three days ago but I just wasn't happy with the chapter. I added a lot more and rewrote a lot. As it is the second to last chapter, I needed to make sure certain things were in there so I spent a long time going over it. I also wasn't happy with the quality of the writing so I decided not to update until I had changed it. I'm happier with it now :)  
> Anyway, please enjoy the second to last chapter! Omg I'm so sad :(

_The hospital was the loneliest place. A stark white building, white uniforms, white bed sheets, white clipboards with white paper, scrawled over with the black ink of fate. Lung cancer. Heart failure. Internal bleeding. Brain tumour. Coma. An entire life could be spent in such a place; sitting, waiting, watching. Watching someone die. Someone you love._

_Only this time, it was something much, much worse._

_Murder._

_As the clock on the wall ticked by the unforgiving hours, each second that passed stabbing him in the heart with jolts of guilt and wretched sorrow, Derek could only wish he were watching from the outside._

_An “animal attack” the doctor had called it. She had died in a horrific, unfortunate animal attack. It said so in her file. It would say so in the papers the following morning. Her parents would tell their family and friends how a vicious wolf stole their daughter’s life in a freak accident. They would live their lives never knowing the truth._

_Murder._

_Blood dripped down Derek’s wrists and fingers, his body shaking in a cold sweat. His mother held him in her arms with a tight embrace but Derek felt nothing. His body was limp, arms drooping by his sides. His father stood, pacing the corridor, Laura and Cora sat tired and wide eyed on the chairs opposite. The look in their eyes was something he hadn’t seen from them before. Something no brother should see in the eyes of his sisters._

_Fear._

_They were afraid of him as he sat limp in his mother’s arms, staring at the infinite void before him as his mind went blank. He would later realise it was shock but Derek could fathom no explanation for the numbness that enveloped his body as he sat outside the operation room where Paige had, only moments before, been officially declared dead._

_Doctors had tried to take him to his own examination room to determine if the blood on his hands was all Paige’s or if he too had been injured. But he had refused to leave her side, only allowing the medical staff to pry him from her when they reached the operation room. His father had held him back in a strong grip, shaking some sense into him with the tips of his claws in his skin and a flash of golden eyes. Derek had then sat with his family as they waited to be told what they were sure they already knew. Paige was dead._

_When the news was finally delivered, the doctor looking painfully sorry and asking Derek’s parents for Paige’s family contacts, Derek gave no reaction. He had already sunk into a state akin to a coma from which he did not awaken for several hours. When he finally came around, Derek had little memory of the events that had taken place. From the Nemeton where Derek had taken Paige’s life as a last resort to end her suffering, to lying in his parents’ bed with his mother’s tender hands stroking his hair, Derek’s memory was fuzzy at best. And it was shortly after he returned to the world of the conscious that the realisation of what he had done became apparent._

_No one slept that night as Derek screamed his throat raw._

_The following few days were spent hiding from his family. He shut himself away, body shaken and weak. He supressed all supernatural senses and abilities and avoided the bathroom as much as possible, afraid to catch a glimpse of his reflexion in the mirror. His mother had tried to convince him that his newly acquired ice blue eyes were nothing to be ashamed of and that his part in Paige’s death was one of kindness but the ever growing black hole of guilt in his chest would suggest otherwise._

_Murderer._

_He knew what his blue eyes meant. He knew what his sisters thought when they looked at him now. He knew that his relationship with his family would never be the same again. They were the only ones who would ever know the truth and he couldn’t bear to face them. And the one person he wanted to talk to, to hold as he cried himself to sleep each night was the one person he could never see again. And he was the only one to blame._

_Derek knew he couldn’t take the pain of losing anyone else he loved. He would never let himself fall in love again. It was far too painful to see them slip from his fingers._

_He would never love anyone the way he loved her. He wouldn’t let himself._

xxx

Friday, 27th March

Tiny specks of light filled the sky. The evening stars. They glowed bright against the almost black backdrop of the spring night. A light breeze rustled the grass and the leaves of nearby trees. Apart from that everything seemed still.

And silent.

Derek lay motionless on his back, the cold ground beneath him and the gentle caress of the chilly air were all he could feel. His body felt heavy, sinking into the earth like a rock. The sky was so clear, no clouds in sight. It was a beautiful night.

Except it wasn’t.

As his surroundings became more apparent, Derek forced himself to sit up and surveyed the area. The slow breeze around him was thick with dirty smoke, billowing out of the bunker entrance which had been blown into thousands of tiny pieces. And the stars were not stars at all but burning flecks of fire and ash, billowing overheard. The grass was littered with debris.

The silence stretched on.

At least until his head filled with a high pitched buzzing which slowly transformed back into normal sound. The damage in his hearing from the blast was repairing itself and it wasn’t long before he was back to reality.

The silence was broken. Broken with the sound of crackling fire, cries, groans of pain and police sirens.

Derek pushed himself to stand. He scanned the area searching for Stiles. Scott lay not far from him. They had only just made it outside the bunker before the explosion. They had gone flying from the force of the blast and were several metres from the now destroyed entrance. But he was moving. He was alive. Across the small valley Derek could see Lydia and Jackson huddled together with Allison as Chris spoke to someone on the phone. He noticed Derek and hurried over, putting his phone back in his pocket.

‘Derek, are you alright?’

‘Yes.’ Derek assessed himself for a moment, waiting for any indication that something was amiss. ‘Yes, I’m fine. Where’s Stiles?’

Chris grimaced.

‘I don’t know. I haven’t seen him. The police are on their way. I can hear the sirens already. I just called some “friends” of mine in case we need to keep anything under wraps. Isaac has healed mostly and it looks like Scott has too.’ Chris said, peering over at Scott who was sitting up.

‘I have to find Stiles. Where are the others?’

Chris looked at him with turned down eyes. He looked tired. He looked like the father of a child who caused him endless worry and stress. Derek supposed it was the same way the Sheriff and Melissa looked having to deal with their own children as they fought the supernatural world to protect their town. And Derek, too, was beginning to feel the innate exhaustion of fearing for the life of someone he was terrified of losing.

‘Everyone got out.’ Chris spoke in a gruff the voice, the smoke and flames billowing from the ruin choking his throat. ‘All except Stiles.’

Derek’s heart sank and he felt fear surging through him. He had to find him. He had to find him alive.

Chris assured him that everyone was accounted for. Several of them had been injured but all were ok. Lydia had been caught by some debris from the explosion, her arm bleeding from where a large splinter of wood had lodged itself into the flesh. Allison had cuts along her cheek and down her neck and Chris, too, was walking with a limp, blood evident just above the knee. But Ethan, Isaac, Scott, Malia and Jackson were fine. Any damage had already healed. Now Derek’s only concern was Stiles.

Derek ran towards the heart of the damage. The sirens were very close now. He saw the blue lights flashing just over the top of the valley. The bunker, or what was left of it, was deep in flames. The roof had been blown clean off, earth scattered everywhere. Anyone who had been inside would have been smashed against the concrete walls and killed instantly. But had Stiles been inside?

Derek knew there was no point searching inside the wreck of the bunker. Had Stiles been inside the room at the time, he would have been blown to pieces. The thought caused a physical reaction in Derek. His skin went damp with cold sweat and his stomach heaved as images of Stiles’ mangled body filled his mind. But more than that, the thought of never seeing the boy alive again had Derek bending over to vomit.

Derek wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and staggered further along the grass towards where most of the debris lay, his whole body shaking. Large slabs on concrete still lay in solid pieces and Derek prayed Stiles may be hidden behind one, unharmed. He called his name, trying to keep the tears out of his voice. Soon, Scott was by his side, calling out too. And after that, everyone who was able was searching the area, their voices filled with emotion.

When the Sheriff arrived, he too joined the search. Derek had caught his eye, the look of dread on the older man’s face. But he did not cry. He didn’t scream or go into hysterics. He called out his son’s name and searched with more vigour than anyone.

‘How did the police know where to come?’ Scott asked in a hushed tone to Allison as they walked side by side through the mess. Derek could hear Scott struggling to keep his emotions in check.

Allison sniffed.

‘My dad. Kira got your messaged and called him. He told her to stay with her parents because there was nothing she could do and he came and found Malia, Ethan and I. We were waiting for Lydia and the boys to come out through the warehouse but they never showed up. I knew something had gone wrong but Dad made me wait before going back in. We didn’t know exactly what we’d find down there.’

‘Thank god you came when you did or else we might all be-’ His voice caught and Derek knew he was holding back tears.

‘Thank god Kira wasn’t here too.’ Derek watched as Allison placed an arm on Scott’s shoulder and they continued searching in silence, apart from calling out Stiles’ name.

Derek began to lose hope when, ten minutes later, they were still searching. He lifted another large block on concrete and threw it several metres into the air in frustration. There were several of the Sheriff’s officers on the scene and he hoped none of them saw. That would be difficult to explain. But right now he needed to find Stiles. He refused to give up.

‘Stiles!’ he cried out, not caring that his voice was breaking. ‘STILES!’ He felt a hand on his back and spun around, disappointment heavy when he saw it was Lydia. She was crying, silent tears spilling down her flushed cheeks. He felt a sudden panic. ‘Is he…is he-?’

‘Not yet.’ she said, shaking her head. ‘I can still feel him.’ Derek felt a small amount of relief at her words. Lydia, being a banshee, to some degree, gave him comfort that Stiles was still alive. Had he been killed she would have felt it. At least that’s how it usually worked. Derek just prayed these things worked by the book.

‘Me too.’ Derek said quietly.

They walked on together, searching the ground ahead for any indication of Stiles. Derek prayed they wouldn’t stumble across his dead body. Derek had already seen too many dead bodies in his time. But the small semblance of hope within him, the connection he felt had developed between them over the last few months, was fading fast. The dark night was stretching on the further they moved away from the fire. Derek used his supernatural eyesight to search the dark ground but he knew Lydia was struggling as she staggered through the long grass.

Derek felt his heart thundering in his chest, tears burning in his eyes. But he wouldn’t let himself lose control. He wouldn’t stop searching until he knew for sure that Stiles was either alive and well or dead. That thought had the sick rising in his throat once again. But his overwhelming panic was interrupted by a voice calling from across the valley.

‘Hey, Sheriff Stilinski! I think I’ve found him!’ It was Jackson. Derek had almost forgotten he was there, having not seen him since he moved to London. They had hardly been friends but at that moment, Derek had never been so happy to see him. Jackson called out again, twenty metres or so to Derek’s right. ‘Derek, Scott, he’s here!’

Derek set off at a run.

xxx

The darkness around him was warm. The air moved over his skin in hot billows, catching his cheeks in burning puffs. It was almost too warm.

A strong breeze gusted over him, sending a sudden cold chill over him. But a burning continued at his back. Something sharp was cutting into his spin and he wanted to relieve the pressure but his body refused to move. He tried to open his eyes but they seemed sealed shut. He panicked for a moment and tried to force them and eventually the lids slowly split apart. He could feel something thick and tight across his face, the culprit of his momentary blindness.

Blood.

Apart from the night sky, all Stiles could see was blood. He lay almost on his side, head tilted towards his left shoulder and could see along his body where his clothes were caked in dark red blood, almost black in the night. Not too far off he could see the flickering flames of the bunker licking the sky, the smell of burning chemicals scalding his nose.

His plan had worked.

Or at least he hoped.

By shooting the box of ammunition of the shelf, he had hoped the gas produced from the hydrochloric acid spilling onto and through the wood and reacting with the metal of the ammunition shells would be enough to cause a blast. Hydrogen gas was highly flammable. He thanked the lord he was interested in chemistry. His plan had been to get out before making the final shot but he didn’t have time. Juliet might have killed him before he had the chance.

Stiles tried to sit up, to search for his friends but he was unable to move any part of his body apart from his eyes. He tried not to panic. He had been the only one left inside the bunker when it exploded. All the hunters must be dead, apart from Sanchez who had escaped at some point. But what about Derek and Scott? Had they made it out in time?

Stiles needed to find them. He had to make sure they were ok. Without being able to move, Stiles did the next best thing he could.

He cried out for them.

He cried out with all his might but all that came out was a choked whisper. He tried to cough but found his throat dry with dust and painfully sore from the scorching heat of the explosion. He cried out again and again but it never sounded more than a pathetic whimper.

It was then that he heard his own name being called. He listened as the voices came nearer. He recognised his father, Derek and Scott. His heart leapt in his chest even though it could only just about keep him from death’s door. Stiles wasn’t sure how he would pull through this.

‘I-I-I’m…h-here…’ he tried pitifully, knowing no one would hear him. ‘D-Derek…please…’

The limited energy he had was all but used up and Stiles felt his vision blur. He knew he didn’t have long before he passed out.

But despite his failing eye sight, Stiles was sure he saw a figure above him. He was sure the blurring mess of facial features was familiar.

It was Jackson.

And soon there were other faces. Other wonderful, kind, loving faces, all tear stained and smiling painfully.

Stiles blinked slowly and urged himself to focus. His vision cleared and above him he could see his father.

‘Stiles, oh my god, Stiles can you hear me?’

Stiles tried to nod but nothing happened.

‘Stiles, buddy it’s me!’ Scott tried and this time Stiles managed to make a strangled sound in his throat.

‘…D…Der…k…’

‘Derek, he wants you.’ Stiles recognised Lydia’s voice.

And then, above him was the most beautiful face he’d ever seen. He would have thought himself dead and in heaven had he not seen Jackson’s ugly mug first.

‘Stiles…’ Derek said softly, a warm hand stroking down Stiles’ face. ‘Stiles…’ he said again.

Stiles felt a tear tumble down his cheek.

Derek was alive.

And suddenly Stiles could feel the pump of blood in his veins, the tingle of life in his limbs. Derek’s hand was still on his cheek, black lines swirling up his forearm. Derek was taking his pain.

With the pain subsiding a little, Stiles was able to turn his body and raise a hand and cup Derek’s jaw. The stubble was rough but the skin of his lips was smooth under the pad of his thumb.

‘…Derek…’

Stiles felt a wave of exhaustion wash over him and his eyes fluttered shut. The faces above him vanished into darkness as he slipped away into nothing, the feeling of someone else’s tears on his cheek the last thing he noticed before he was gone.

xxx

Derek held Stiles close to his chest as they waited for the ambulances to arrive. The Sheriff had ordered his officers to search the area for any of the family members who may have escaped or were still alive in the debris. They all doubted it though. Stiles had been just far enough from the explosion to be blown away in one piece. The others would not have been so lucky.

Scott and the others had sat with Derek as he held Stiles, rocking him in his arms, quietly muttering against his bloodied temple. Knowing the boy was still alive, if barely, had Derek instantly holding him close and no one commented on the tears that fell silently from his hooded eyes.

When the paramedics arrived, they had to pry Stiles from his arms. Derek insisted on going with him in the ambulance and the Sheriff nodded consent, despite the threat he had given Derek the last time they had been at the hospital. As Stiles was carted into the back of the ambulance, the Sheriff held his hand, telling him not to worry even though the boy was unconscious and holding onto life by a thread.

‘I’ll be there as soon as I can, kiddo.’ The Sheriff’s voice was tight and his eyes brimmed with angry tears. ‘You’re gonna be fine, I promise.’ Stiles was strapped down and Derek climbed in behind, the doors beginning to shut. ‘I love you, son.’

Derek gave the Sheriff a nod as he disappeared through the closing doors.

During the ride to the hospital, the paramedics tended to Stiles, cutting open his t shirt to reveal his chest. Shrapnel was embedded in his flesh, more blood drying around the chunks of metal, concrete and wood. In the bright light of the ambulance Derek could see just how bad Stiles looked. His face and arms were almost black with dirt and blood and his right arm looked severely broken. His heart rate was apparently weak and there was a concern that some of the shrapnel might have punctured a lung, not to mention the shrapnel in his back, close to his spine.

Derek watched every touch laid upon Stiles’ dirty and damaged skin. He listened in for any and all details, desperate to know what was going on. But he didn’t dare ask them in fear of hearing the worst.

Derek tentatively laid his hand over Stiles’, watching over him with damp eyes. He sniffed loudly, not caring that the paramedics could see and hear him. He didn’t care what they thought.

When they arrived at the hospital, Stiles was hurried into an operation theatre, Derek forced to wait outside. He paced the corridor, unable to keep still. He was aware of the horrible parallels between his current situation and his haunted past but he didn’t want to think about that. He didn’t want to remember the life changing events that took place that night. He had lost so much of himself that day, right in the same building he was in now. He had never been the same after taking Paige’s life, losing the one person he had ever been in love with. The only one until now.

He couldn't do it. No way, not a chance.

He couldn't lose him. Not like he lost Paige. He couldn't go through that again.

xxx

Noah sighed tiredly as he watched the last of the ambulances drive off back into Beacon Hills. The area had been marked off from the public, a fire truck on the scene, dealing with the flames of the bunker. His officers were still searching the area for the hunters but so far all they had found was several mangled body parts. He tried not to think about how that could have been all that was left of his son had he not been more lucky. He shuddered.

He had known something was wrong the moment Stiles answered the phone. His voice was tight, uncertain. He insisted that everything was fine, that he was home, waiting for his dad to come back. It was only when he went home to check on Stiles that he knew something was wrong. His car was gone, which he later found outside the station, and Stiles was nowhere to be found. But Noah knew where to find his son.

He was already back in his car when his radio came to life. A man had called in about hearing gunfire outside of the town, right were Noah knew Stiles would be. He got all his officers on the scene as fast as possible but by that time it was already too late. The bunker was in flames and his son in critical condition.

All the kids were off to the hospital and there was no sign of any life left in the area. The hunters had all been inside when the explosion happened. All but one.

Noah knew he needed to find Sanchez.

Allison and Lydia had claimed to see him stumble out of the bunker after them but they hadn’t seen where he had gone. Noah could only assume he had gotten away in time to avoid being killed by the explosion as Allison and Lydia had gotten out safely.

Sanchez was out there. He knew it.

Noah walked through the valley back towards his car to get another torch. He opened his boot and found the other torch, tossing the dead one inside. He flicked the switch, checking the power and watched the bright light dance across the grass. He walked back down the valley and up to the other side. He wondered how far the man could have gotten with one of Allison’s arrows in his ankle. Noah scanned the grass, determined to find the bastard who had tried to kill his son on more than one occasion. He could only pray Sanchez had been unable to run far with his injury.

Noah continued along the top of the valley, his torch flickering from side to side. Not far off was a line of foliage, nothing dense enough to hide in but worth searching. He approached it with caution. The torch light stretched several metres ahead and just on the edge of the light’s reach a dark figure darted back into the shadows. Noah’s pulse leapt and he darted off in hot pursuit.

He ran after the figure along the top of the valley on the other side from the warehouse. He shone his torch ahead and could see Sanchez running with a severe limp. His right ankle was crippled and only just touching the ground as he ran. It wouldn’t be long before he had to stop, the pain from his wound clearly too strong to ignore. Noah caught up to him, only a few feet away when he stopped. He raised his gun just as Sanchez looked over his shoulder, panic written all over his face.

Noah pulled the trigger and watched the bullet slam into Sanchez’ thigh. He aimed again and shot another into his left shoulder blade. The damage was not enough to kill but to cause serious harm and stop him in his tracks. Sanchez fell to the grass in a howl of pain and Noah took no time in snapping hand cuffs on him.

‘That was for my boy, you sick son of a bitch.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Coming up:  
> Stiles recovers in the hospital and, with the help of his friends, finally realises how important he really is to them. Meanwhile, Derek wonders where he and Stiles lie. Will the Sheriff allow them to be together? (Final chapter!!! Omg I need a tissue!)


	42. Acceptance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!  
> I am so so so so sorry for the delay! I hadn't finished writing this chapter and I realised that I actually needed to split it into more than one chapter because there was so much left to fit in! So this is NOT the last chapter. There will be at least one more! Yay! It feels a little anticlimactic as it was coming to the end and now I'm adding more chapters lol! But I couldn't have let it end with this chapter. There is more to iron out before the story ends.  
> There won't be such a long delay this time as I have most of it written now.  
> So please enjoy!

Monday, 30th March

Stiles was put in an induced coma for two days. His body had been placed under a great deal of strain and he needed time to heal. His arm had required surgery, having been broken in two places and was now in a cast. His chest was littered with many superficial cuts and bruises but some were more serious and had required more surgery to remove shrapnel. He had severe bruising along his spine and would have trouble moving for a few weeks. He had lost a lot of blood too and had been given a transfusion when he arrived at the hospital. But he was alive. He was alive and Derek could not have been more thankful. He had hardly left Stiles’ side since he had been allowed in to see him after surgery. The Sheriff had arrived around the same time, having taken Sanchez into custody and palming the paperwork off on his officers for the time being.

Scott and the others had all been in to visit. They, too, had been looked over by doctors, Lydia’s arm requiring stitches. They had all sat by Stiles’ bedside and watched him sleep, even Jackson, although Derek wasn’t sure he was entirely interested in being there, more keen to reconnect with Lydia. Ethan had recovered from the high doses of mountain ash the hunters had been giving him and was staying with Danny. He hadn’t decided whether to stay in Beacon Hills for a while or not but Malia had. She had told them her plan to focus on her school work before going to find her mother. She needed to get her own life together before searching for another. Derek was glad Stiles had so many friends watching over him. He was lucky. Derek wasn’t sure he’d ever had friendship like that, apart from his sisters.

Derek had called Cora Saturday morning after realising that they had lost each other once before and couldn’t let it happen again. He had struggled to deal with losing Paige, his entire family and almost Stiles, too. He couldn’t let her slip through his fingers as well.

When Stiles finally woke up, Derek wasn’t by his side. He had received a text from the Sheriff telling him Stiles had been brought out of the coma that morning and he hurried from the loft, just barley managing to get his clothes on after his shower as he ran down to his car. When he got to the hospital, Stiles was sat up, his bed electronically moved to support his weak form. Derek’s heart fluttered at the sight of his black and blue face, his eyes somehow still bright despite what had happened.

‘Hey.’ Derek said breathily.

‘Hey.’ Stiles said back, a small smile on his lips.

The Sheriff was at his side and looked at Derek with a hard stare.

‘Hello, Derek.’

‘Sheriff.’ Derek nodded, moving to Stiles’ other side but not standing too close. He knew how Stiles’ dad felt about them. ‘You look good.’

Stiles laughed.

‘Don’t lie. I look like a bag of red grapes!’

‘It’ll fade.’ his dad said reassuringly. ‘Just give it time and you’ll be back to normal.’

‘When have I ever been normal?’ Stiles asked scathingly. ‘I wouldn’t be in this mess if I were.’ His words were paired with another brilliant smile. ‘Dad was just telling me about Sanchez.’ Stiles said, turning to Derek. ‘They arrested him and, if all goes well, he’s going to prison for aiding in kidnapping, attempted murder, murder and sexual assault.’

Derek nodded.

‘Sounds about right.’

The Sheriff shifted in his seat and coughed.

‘I’m just going to the car to get some things I brought for you. Derek, would you wait with him while I’m gone?’

Derek nodded and the Sheriff stood, squeezing Stiles’ shoulder, and left.

With the tension in the room dropped, Derek moved around the bed and took the empty seat. Stiles followed him with his eyes.

‘Hey.’ he said again, another greeting now that they were alone.

‘Hi.’

Derek felt a little embarrassed, as though he were faced with a high school crush he was too shy to talk to.

‘I’m glad you’re ok.’ Stiles said in a whisper. ‘I was so scared they were going to kill you.’

‘Me too.’ Derek said honestly and they both laughed a little. ‘I’m glad you’re ok, too.’ Stiles reached out a hand, Derek taking it in his own, linking their fingers. ‘You know, they probably would have killed us both had you not blown the entire place up.’

‘I had to do something. It was drastic but the only thing I could think of.’

‘What exactly did you do?’ Derek still had no idea how the explosion had happened.

‘My dad asked me the exact same thing before you came in.’ Stiles grinned and shook his head. ‘When Isaac got thrown to the floor, he knocked over the acid that Drew tried to burn me with. It was hydrochloric acid which reacts with metal to produce hydrogen gas which is highly flammable. I hoped that if I shot at the box of ammunition, it could cause enough of a spark to light the gas and send the whole place up in flames.’

Derek stared at him for a moment and shook his own head.

‘And you thought the pack didn’t need you?’ Stiles looked away bashfully and Derek chuckled softly. ‘Stiles, you’re far too smart for your own good.’

Stiles shrugged with a smirk.

‘I like to think it makes me sexy.’

‘I can assure you, it does.’

They were quiet for a moment, both just happy looking each other over, appreciating what they both almost lost.

‘You know,’ Stiles began, letting go of Derek’s hand to tap his fingers on his wrist instead. ‘it’s my birthday in less than two weeks.’ He ran his hand up and down Derek’s arm. ‘I’ll be eighteen.’

‘Eighteen, eh?’

‘Yup. Eighteen and _legal_.’ Stiles looked up at Derek with round eyes through long lashes.

Derek laughed.

‘I see.’

‘So?’ Stiles pressed. ‘What d’you think? You wanna do this thing properly?’

‘I’m not sure your dad would be too pleased.’

‘Well, I’ll be an adult, he can’t tell me what to do or who to date. No one can.’

Derek worried his lip between his teeth and scrunched up his nose a little.

‘I don’t want to look like a cradle snatcher.’

Stiles snorted a laugh.

‘Derek, you’re like five years older than me, that’s nothing.’

‘It might seem that way to you but others might not be so open towards it. You’re still very young.’

Stiles’ bright smile faltered and his fingers retracted from Derek’s arm.

‘Is that a problem?’

Derek saw the fear flash through his eyes.

‘No. At least, it’s a problem I can deal with.’ Derek said with a smirk. Stiles’ smile was back, full force and he pulled Derek towards him, pressing their lips together. It was warm and soft, electric sparks jumping between them, sending shivers of desire along Derek’s skin.

Derek knew he needed Stiles far too much to let their age difference come between them. And Stiles was right; come April 8th he would be a consenting adult and they would be free to date openly. Derek’s fear over losing Stiles like he had Paige had made him realise, once and for all, that Stiles was someone he couldn’t live without. If the Sheriff wanted to drag him to the station and try to lock him away for falling in love with his son, Derek wouldn’t stop him. As long as Stiles was alive and loved him, he didn’t care what happened to himself. And Stiles still needed him; he had a lot of self-esteem issues to sort out and his nightmares would most likely only get worse after recent events. Stiles had felt like he didn’t belong and Derek was determined to prove him wrong.

Derek almost rolled his eyes at his own cliché thoughts.

Their kissing was interrupted, all too soon in Derek’s opinion, by the clearing of a throat. Derek felt Stiles pull away and heard a whispered curse from under his breath.

‘Hey, dad.’ Stiles said, cheeks flushed. ‘Umm…so…I meant to tell you something a while ago but umm…’ Stiles lost his words as the Sheriff pinned him with a hard stare, nostrils slightly flared. Derek could feel the tension descend on the room, Stiles’ pulse quickening like a rabbit caught in headlights. He could also smell the perspiration break out on Stiles skin as his brain whirred, trying to think of something to say.

The Sheriff stared at the two of them. Derek was still sat close to Stiles, his hands lingering near his body. Derek wasn’t going to pretend it wasn’t real. He wasn’t ashamed of how he felt for Stiles and he wasn’t afraid of the Sheriff. Well, only a little bit. The Sheriff continued to stare at them, his eyes flickering from Stiles to Derek and back again. His face seemed to go through several stages of emotion; anger, confusion, pain and finally, pure exhaustion. Derek watched as the Sheriff looked to his son and they held eye contact. Stiles’ face was, as far as he could tell from behind the dark bruising, pleading with his father. There were a few moments of silent communication between father and son that Derek could only hope to understand before the Sheriff sighed and took a deep breath.

‘When he’s eighteen.’ he said shortly, not quite making Derek’s eye. ‘When he’s eighteen and no sooner.’

Derek could have laughed. He also could have cried but he was used to supressing his emotions after years of practice and simply nodded.

‘Yes, sir.’ Derek said with a smile.

They sat in awkward silence for a while as the Sheriff unpacked the bag of clothes he’d brought for Stiles’ hospital stay. Derek could tell Stiles was dreading having to discuss the situation with his father at a later date and the thought amused him; watching Stiles flail and panic was one of his favourite pastimes. However, the Sheriff eventually had to leave the room when his phone rang, a deputy calling from the station. He excused himself but not before fixing Derek with a narrow eyed stare.

Stiles reached out for Derek’s hand again, his thumb tracing over his knuckles, long fingers tickling his palm. Stiles had beautiful hands.

‘Will I be worth the wait?’ Stiles asked with a cheeky raise of an eyebrow, his voice low so his father couldn’t hear them from outside the room. He was bruised and battered from head to toe but all Derek could see were his pink lips, hitched in a small grin and his eyes, prickled with mischief.

Derek smiled again, eyes dipped in embarrassment.

‘I think you already know the answer to that.’

xxx

Monday, 30th March

Later than afternoon, the others made a visit to the hospital. Stiles was glad to see them all alive and well even if he was a little self-conscious about the state of his face. But no one commented on it as they piled into the room, much to the nurse’s displeasure who scowled as she flounced from the room. Derek was still sat by his side and the new additions to the room made it a little crowded. Scott gave him a gentle hug, trying to avoid touching any part of him that was injured which pretty much ruled out his entire body. Lydia pressed a kiss onto the top of his head and Allison stroked a hand down his arm as she perched on the corner of his bed. Jackson looked annoyed to be there which was no surprise and Kira waved from the end of the bed next to Isaac. Malia came in last and looked over him with a sad expression.

‘God, I’m not happy about being back here so soon.’ Allison said, much to everyone’s amusement. ‘How are you feeling?’

Stiles tried his best to shrug but his body was stiff and sore, even after all the pain medication the nurse had pumped through his veins.

‘I’m ok. Kinda sleepy and everything feels a little surreal. But I’m glad to see that you’re all ok. Thanks for coming. You didn’t have to.’

‘Of course we did.’ Scott said firmly. ‘You saved all our lives.’

‘No I didn’t. Allison and her father did. All I did was bring Scott right to the hunters and almost got you all killed.’

‘Stiles, what are you talking about?’ Lydia asked with a hand on her hip as though she were scolding a child. ‘You’re the reason we’re all still alive.’

Stiles shook his head, wincing as the movement irritated his bruised spine.

‘No, all I did was bring the bait right to them.’ Lydia and Scott both looked ready to argue but Stiles held his uninjured hand up to stop them. ‘The hunters never would have found Scott if I hadn’t brought him to them. I didn’t realise it until I was sat in that chair with a family of maniacs around me, threatening to kill every werewolf on the planet out of some corrupt sense of duty. They were searching for the wrong thing this whole time. They were looking for power, animalistic instincts, wildness. They were looking for a beast. But, while Scott may be more powerful than all of us, he’s gentle and kind. The thing that really made him a True Alpha was his potential for good, not his physical strength. He’s in tune with nature because he respects it, not because he’s overpowered by it. He’s nothing like Peter Stumpp. I don’t think they ever would have found him if I hadn’t brought him right to them. The only reason you aren’t all dead right now is because Allison and Chris saved you from my mistakes.’

‘Stiles, I would never have been able to help had you not figured out where the hunters would be.’ Allison had a hand around his shoulders, looking down at him with warmth in her eyes.

‘As much as you annoy me and probably most people in this room,’ Isaac began from the end of the bed, earning himself a hard stare from Derek. ‘had you not done everything you did, those people would still be out there, hunting us down. Had you not blown the entire place up, they would have followed us out and killed us all.’

‘And just think about all the future lives you’ve saved from them.’ Kira said, waving a finger. ‘Had you not killed them all, they would have gone on to kill loads more innocent people.’

‘I guess.’ Stiles said, not sure he wanted to take praise for killing an entire family, even if they were psychotic killers.

‘Stiles, without you, Ethan, Jackson and I would be dead.’ Malia said from behind the others. She moved forward and looked over him. ‘I was locked down there for months. I kept telling myself that it would be ok, that someone would find me. That _you_ would find me.’ Her eyes glazed over with tears and her jaw wobbled a little. It was the first time Stiles had seen her look anything other than angry. ‘I always knew it would be you, Stiles. Ethan and I had no way of escaping but you were trying to find us the entire time. You knew something was wrong, you knew there were people after Scott, that they had taken me. I never once doubted that you would figure it out and save us. You should give yourself more credit. You’re the only reason we’re all still here, alive. So just take our thanks and shut up.’

Stiles was a little taken aback but saw her concern melt into a grin and he laughed. He laughed because he knew that no matter what he said, no matter how much he tried to fight them on it, they wouldn’t let him blame himself. And as he laughed, Stiles felt something in his chest shift. He sucked in breath freely, his body feeling light on the bed. His cheeks began to hurt as he smiled, the muscles not used to such excessive use. The others smiled too, all except Jackson who looked constipated at best. Stiles sighed happily and nodded.

‘Sure thing. You’re all more than welcome.’ And he meant it. He would do whatever it took to save his friends, too keep them with him for as long as possible. It was then that Stiles noticed Ethan and Danny were missing. ‘How’s Ethan doing? Is he ok?’

‘He’s fine.’ Lydia informed, tucking Stiles’ blanket in, tending to him as she had with Allison not that long ago. ‘He’s staying with Danny for the time being. No second guesses as to what they’ll be up to.’

Even Jackson laughed. Danny and Ethan would most definitely be “catching up” with one another while Ethan was still in town.

‘Good. I’m sure I’ll see him soon. Not that he’ll want to see me. We’re not exactly friends, especially after I killed his brother.’ Stiles realised how strange that might sound to an outsider and also risky. The last thing he needed was to be thrown in prison alongside Sanchez.

‘Stiles, you know that’s not true.’ Allison insisted.

‘Yeah, I know.’ For the first time Stiles could honestly say he did. ‘I guess it’s just taken me a long time to see that what happened back then wasn’t about me. I’ve kind of been struggling to find my place within the pack but I think I’ve finally figured it out.’ Stiles looked to Derek and they shared a knowing smile.

‘Oh, god. Gag me with a spoon.’ Jackson groaned. ‘Look, I’m glad you’re not dead, I guess, but I’m not interested in watching you and Derek eye-bang. I still don’t get how that even happened.’

‘Yeah, how did that happen exactly?’ Kira asked with a cheeky grin.

‘Yes, do tell.’ Lydia gave him a serious look. ‘And don’t leave out any details.’

Stiles rolled his eyes and smiled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Coming up:  
> Stiles celebrates his 18th birthday, makes new connections and contemplates his new relationship with Derek.


	43. Birthday Wishes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello.  
> Sorry for the delay, this chapter is long.  
> This is the second to last chapter - the last one is gonna be an epilogue.

Wednesday, 8th April

Stiles’ eighteenth birthday began much the same as any other day. He was house bound by his father and doctor which meant he spent the day sat in bed and on the sofa, pretending to do school work while he was actually messing about on his laptop. He father had watched him open his presents before he left for work that morning and promised to be home in time for a massive meal of Stiles’ favourite; anything fried.

Stiles knew his friends had planned to come over that evening for a tame party. His father had refused to let him drink, even though it was his birthday, and he was still too weak to leave the house. But food, presents and a night of films was in the pipework and Stiles was looking forward to it. For the first time in months he wasn’t afraid of spending time with his friends.

But what excited him more was the prospect of seeing Derek. They had decided to stay apart before his birthday to avoid temptation. The Sheriff had made his rule clear and Stiles knew not to break it if he wanted his father to accept Derek as Stiles’ boyfriend.

Boyfriend.

It sounded strange. It was a foreign concept that Stiles had never dreamed of toying with. He hadn’t dared, too afraid of rejection to think of what he and Derek could have become. Things were still not perfect between them. There were things they had yet to discuss and the thought of what would happen to them in the coming years when Stiles left Beacon Hills for university scared Stiles endlessly but it was a fear he was excited to feel. It was a fear he had begun to wonder he would ever be able to fear when his life had seemed so dark, plagued with terrors far more troubling than the worries he had about leaving home to attend college. And it was a fear he could now share with the one thing he never thought he would have; the person he loved.

When the evening rolled on and the doorbell rang, Stiles pushed himself up off the sofa and hobbled to the door. His dad stopped him, however, and marched to the door himself. It opened to reveal Scott, Kira, Lydia and Allison. They filed in and hugged Stiles, wishing him a happy birthday. Scott looked silly with anticipation as he produced a cake from behind his back. He would have dropped it in excitement had it not been for his werewolf reflexes. Not long later, the bell rang again and Stiles opened the door to find Danny, Malia following close behind. The only ones missing were Isaac and Derek. Jackson, it seemed, had already returned home to London which Stiles had to admit, he was glad of. The last thing he wanted for his birthday was Jackson in his house. When the bell rang for the third time, Stiles was bobbing his knee nervously. He ran to the door – more like a limp due to his bad bruising on his back making it difficult to walk – and breathed deeply before turning the handle.

Isaac stood before him, a wrapped present under his arm.

‘Happy birthday.’ he said in a tone that suggested the opposite of happy. Stiles rolled his eyes and stepped aside to let Isaac in. Isaac patted his arm as he passed and Stiles knew they were ok. They might not be each other’s cup of tea, but there was a brewing friendship beneath the sarcasm. Stiles looked back to the open doorway and felt as though the breath had been knocked out of him.

Derek was standing there, leather jacket hugging his muscular chest. His eyebrows were drawn together in their perpetual scowl but they loosened a little at the sight of Stiles. His lips even curved up into a small smirk and Stiles felt his heart hammer in his chest. Derek’s smirk turned into a full blown smile, pearly white teeth and all and Stiles almost threw himself at the man.

‘Happy birthday, Stiles.’

They stood smiling at one another for a few moments, neither of them aware of how long they had been staring. But it didn’t matter. Stiles would be happy to stare all day at the man he could call his own. But eventually, Stiles broke the intense gaze.

‘Thanks. Come in.’

Stiles stepped back to let Derek through the door, his eyes never leaving Derek’s sculptured face. Stiles closed the door after him and they stood close, face to face for the first time in over a week. Derek had no present to hand over but Stiles didn’t care. What he wanted was right in front of him.

Stiles didn’t have to ask for it though as Derek stepped forward, hands slipping around him. Stiles tilted his head and let Derek bring their lips together. He gripped at Derek’s jacket with his one free hand. His other was in a cast and a sling and he wished more than anything for it not to be broken so he could throw it around Derek and kiss him even deeper.

They stopped only when Lydia appeared at the living room door and tapped her heeled shoe.

‘That’s all very nice but we can’t start this party without the birthday boy.’

Stiles pulled slowly away from Derek, grinning.

‘Sorry, we’re coming.’

‘I know you are.’ she said with a smirk and trotted back to the others.

Stiles took Derek’s hand and led him into the living room where heads turned to watch them take a seat together on the sofa. It was a little awkward but Stiles didn’t care. He didn’t care what people thought about him and Derek. He was finally happy. But no one commented on their closeness, on how Derek didn’t move from Stiles’ side the whole night, how their knees bumped against one another as they sat on the sofa, or even when their eyes would meet and they both smiled softly at one another for a moment, caught in a world of their own where their two paths met in a dimension made just for them, before they slipped back into reality. But Stiles could tell Derek was still a little uneasy.

Nevertheless, the evening was better than Stiles could have hoped for. Presents were opened gleefully, Stiles realising how much he had missed his friends as they showered him in things he absolutely loved. They knew him better than he knew himself. There were comic books, novelty t-shirts, much needed car repair tools for his precious jeep and a few cheeky bottles of champagne that his father turned a blind eye to. There were also copious packets and boxes of his favourite snacks and sweets, including a bag of Cheetos which he held up for Derek to see, earning himself a knowing smirk.

Stiles bit the inside of his cheek as memories of the beginning of their relationship came to mind. He began to blush and didn’t miss the way Scott was watching them both. Stiles swallowed awkwardly, his throat a little dry. He hadn’t discussed the recent revelation of his relationship with Scott yet. Scott had been like a brother to him for many years. They had shared all their secrets, their worries and never lied to one another. Stiles knew he had deceived him. He had lied and avoided him for months in favour of spending time with Derek. But Scott hadn’t mentioned it once. He hadn’t gotten mad or upset or avoided him at all. He’d been there for him as he recovered in the hospital, he helped the Sheriff bring him home and sat with him playing video games all evening over the last week when he could do nothing but sit in bed all day long. And through all of that, he never once mentioned Derek. Stiles had been afraid of hurt looks and disappointed eyes but Scott had been nothing but kind, helpful and genuinely happy to see Stiles alive and well. And that was the worst part of it.

Stiles was distracted from his guilt by the cake being brought out of the kitchen by his dad, eighteen flickering candles stuck on top. Stiles cringed inwardly as a chorus of “Happy Birthday” erupted amongst his friends in several different keys. He sat back in his seat and allowed the cake to be placed in front of him. He couldn’t help laughing as his friends struggled through the song, some of them hardly even singing. Scott was singing in full force, Kira equally joyous. Allison, Malia and Lydia sang with a little more grace while Danny and Isaac barely opened their mouths. Derek didn’t sing at all but Stiles saw the glint of a smile in his hazel eyes. The song came to a grand and overly embellished end, all eyes on him expectantly.

‘Make a wish, son.’

Stiles looked up at his dad who was smiling down at him. His eyes was encircled by a wreath of wrinkles, warm and comforting on his kindly face. Stiles could see the emotion in them and wondered if he was thinking of Stiles’ mother as much as Stiles was. Birthdays had been something she took very seriously and always made her best effort to make it a full celebration. His dad had done his best to do the same after her death but they both knew something would forever be missing, something irreplaceable. But it didn’t mean they couldn’t be happy. In fact, Stiles was pretty sure he had more to be happy about than any birthday since his mother’s death put together.

But he had a wish to make.

‘C’mon,’ Scott urged. ‘blow out the candles.’

Stiles nodded and took a deep breath. He paused for a moment, choosing his wish carefully, and blew out the flames in one long breath. The others cheered once they all went out and a cake knife was promptly produced.

‘Anyone for a slice?’ the Sheriff asked. Everyone nodded eagerly and the cake was divided up. Stiles was given a piece almost the size of his hand and wasn’t looking forward to the stomach cramps he was sure to have later that night. But he ate it all the same, licking all the chocolate off his fingers. He had to avoid looking at Derek as they ate, sure that something might begin to stir in his jeans at the sight of Derek eating chocolate cake again.

‘So, what did you wish for?’ Kira asked around her folk.

‘No, you can’t tell.’ Allison waved her own fork like a baton. ‘It won’t come true, otherwise.’

‘Aww, give us a clue, at least.’

Stiles bit his lip and shook his head.

‘It’s a secret.’

‘Well, if that’s the case, we’ll all know about it soon enough.’ Isaac said, smirking down at his plate where he was chasing the final crumbs of cake around the plate with his finger.

‘What?’ Stiles asked, not sure what he meant.

Isaac looked up and huffed a laugh through his nose.

‘Well, you’re not the best at keeping secrets.’

‘What do you mean?’

Isaac’s eyes flickered around the room, his expression suggesting that it was obvious.

‘You’re not exactly inconspicuous in nature. I’m pretty sure almost everyone here already knew what was going on between you two.’ Isaac waggled a chocolatey finger between Stiles and Derek. ‘You weren’t exactly subtle.’

‘Wait, what? You all knew?’ Stiles looked around the room where several faces looked bashful. Lydia looked smug, crossing her legs neatly and flicking her hair. Of course she knew. Stiles had been pretty sure about that for a while. And Isaac had caught the two of them together weeks ago. But the others? ‘Scott, did you know?’

Scott held his gaze for a moment before looking away. Stiles wasn’t sure if he should feel embarrassed, happy or angry that his best friend had pretended not to know for so long. How had he even found out?

‘I think it’s safe to say, subtlety isn’t your strong suit, son.’

Stiles’ glance shot up to his father.

‘You too?!’ The Sheriff nodded and Stiles could feel his cheeks turning bright red. His father had known about them all along? Stiles wanted to run and hide. He didn’t want his dad knowing what he’d been up to with Derek all these months. Stiles covered his face and prayed it would all have been a dream when he took them away. But alas, it was real, painfully real. Stiles stood awkwardly from the sofa, Derek standing to help him. ‘I just need some water.’ he lied, trying to escape the room for a moment while he tried to extinguish the fire in his cheeks.

Stiles hobbled to the kitchen and wasn’t sure if he should laugh or cry. But he didn’t have time for either as Scott appeared in the doorway.

‘You ok?’ Scott asked, a nervous smile on his lips.

Stiles barked a laugh.

‘Umm, I’m not really sure. I feel like a bit of a fool. Everyone knew about us.’

‘Not everyone.’ Scott assured him, taking a seat at the kitchen counter as Stiles hoisted himself up onto one. ‘Kira and Allison didn’t know.’

‘Well, Allison has been in a coma for most of it so…’ Stiles said sarcastically. Scott tried to laugh but there were nervous creases around his eyes.

‘I’m not mad at you, Stiles.’

Stiles hunched his shoulder a little. He felt very exposed.

‘Really?’

‘Of course not. I don’t blame you for not telling me. You were dealing with something really difficult and you found someone who could comfort you and support you through it. I’m your best friend and I’ll always be here for you if you need someone to talk to but I understand that that person can’t always be me.’

Stiles sighed a little sadly.

‘Scott, you know how important you are to me. You always will be. And I’m sorry for pushing you away and hiding. I wanted to talk to you, I really did. I just couldn’t bring myself to unload all my problems on you when I knew you were dealing with your own. Derek was…he was…’ Stiles didn’t know how to put it into words.

‘He was there at the right time?’ Scott suggested.

Stiles shook his head.

‘It was more than that. So much more. Believe it or not, Derek and I are so similar. We’ve struggled with the same issues; feelings of inadequacy and losing someone you love. Talking to him was like talking into a mirror. He knows exactly how I feel. He understands me.’

‘You don’t have to explain it to me, buddy.’ Scott rested a hand on Stiles’ uninjured arm. ‘I don’t judge or blame you. Derek was there for you in a way that I couldn’t be.’

‘You’re more than my best friend, Scott. You’re my family. I need you in my life. But I’ve realised that I also need Derek.’ Stiles looked down to his lap. He felt a tingle of giddiness in his gut. ‘I will always need him.’

Scott seemed to understand what he meant and coughed a little awkwardly.

‘So, er, do you…you know…feel _that way_ about him?’ Stiles looked up to Scott’s face which was also going a little pink. Stiles nodded. ‘And does he…?’

Stiles shrugged.

‘I think so.’

‘Good. That’s all I need to know.’

Scott stood and lay his hand on Stiles’ back before turning for the living room.

‘How, umm, how exactly did you figure it out?’

Scott stopped and turned on his heel.

‘Ah, that wasn’t so much me “figuring it out” and more of me “ _finding”_ out, if you know what I mean.’

‘Huh?’

Scott’s blush deepened. Stiles felt all the blood drain from his face.

xxx

After suffering severe embarrassment and wishing he had never been born, Stiles shuffled across the kitchen after Scott who returned to the living room. However, as he reached the sofa, a knock sounded from the front door. Stiles glanced at the clock on the wall and wondered who it could be. He dragged his tired body to the door and unlocked it, yanking it out of the old frame which had become slightly distorted in its old age. Stiles was more than a little surprised by who he found on the doorstep.

‘Ethan?’

‘Hello, Stiles.’ Ethan said stiffly. Stiles stared at him for a few long seconds before Ethan cleared his throat. ‘Is it alright if I come inside?’

Stiles nodded jerkily, moving aside.

‘Yes, sure, sure. Come on in.’

Ethan thanked him and stepped into the warm house. Stiles pushed the door shut and turned to face the werewolf. They stared at one another again, in silence.

Ethan cleared his throat again.

‘I’m sorry for dropping by uninvited. I told Danny I wasn’t going to come; you and I were never exactly friends.’ Ethan tried a smile but Stiles could tell it wasn’t entirely natural. ‘But I wanted to see you before I left. I wanted to say thank you. We were once enemies and yet you fought to save my life. I know I wasn’t the only one you were rescuing but you saved me nonetheless and for that I want to thank you. I’m not entirely sure I deserved saving.’

Stiles gave a tight smile.

‘Everyone makes mistakes. There will be a time when everyone questions which side they are on and we can’t always be sure we’ve made the right decision.’

Ethan eyed Stiles carefully, a silence falling between them for a third time. Ethan’s expression seemed a little pained but the aggression and thirst for power that Stiles had been accustomed to seeing in his eyes was gone.

‘I don’t blame you for what happened to my brother, you know.’ Ethan said with a calmness that Stiles never once saw from the twins during their time in Beacon Hills. They had always been balled up in an aggressive energy, control by Deucalion and had never shown an indication of humanity until one of them lay dead. And, sadly, it was only then that Stiles felt any connection to either of them. It was only the thought of two brothers holding one another and saying their final goodbyes that helped Stiles to see how much he had in common with them. He had lost someone so precious, someone so crucial to his very existence and happiness that he felt a connection with Ethan deeper than he could express. It was only since getting to know Derek that he realised those connections existed at all. But they were all around him; with his father, with Derek, Allison, Isaac and so on. What tied them all together, what made them a pack, wasn’t the physical strength they shared or natural quick wit, but a mutual understanding that life was precious and needed to be protected, that they had all suffered deep loss and sought each other for comfort. Stiles didn’t need to be a werewolf to be part of the pack. He didn’t need to be powerful and strong, fast or stealthy. What he needed was the confidence to trust that he would never be left behind. And it was something he wanted to share with Ethan.

‘It’s taken me a long time to get there but, neither do I.’ And it was true. As much as the Nogitsune still haunted Stiles’ very being, drove him mad with horrific memories that felt too real to process, Stiles knew he couldn’t keep blaming himself for what happened. He had punished himself for crimes committed by someone else. And it was entirely likely that Ethan had also been punishing himself for the death of his brother. Grief was a monster more difficult to overcome than any physical beast. ‘Ethan, whatever has happened, whatever we’ve all been through, I’m not turning my back on you. None of us are. You don’t have to leave if you don’t want to.’

Ethan held his gaze for a while, his eyes trying to read Stiles’ expression. But he nodded and held out his hand. Stiles took it firmly and knew Ethan understood. They didn’t need to say anything else.

‘I won’t be gone forever.’

‘Good.’ And Stiles could honestly say he meant it. ‘Before you go, would you like to join us? We’re just hanging out, not doing much but you’re more than welcome to join.’ Ethan looked a little hesitant. Stiles could tell he had intended to say his piece and leave. ‘I’m sure Danny would like it if you stayed.’

Ethan’s expression lightened considerably and he nodded.

xxx

‘Thanks for coming.’ Stiles said, stifling a yawn as he waved people off from the doorway. They waved back as they got into their cars and drove away. Isaac lingered on the porch as Scott and Stiles hugged goodbye. Scott was giving Isaac a lift home as Derek was planning on staying a while longer. His father hadn’t made any comment on it but Stiles could feel the looks he was giving them.

‘I’ll come over tomorrow, yeah?’ Scott asked, slipping on his jacket.

‘Sure thing. I’m gonna need some help eating all those snacks you guys got me.’

Scott laughed.

‘No problem, I’m your man.’

Stiles smirked as Scott winked at him and Derek huffed under his breath. Stiles had a feeling he was a jealous type.

Once everyone was gone, Stiles took a seat in the kitchen and sighed happily into the cup of tea his dad slid across the counter to him.

‘Did you have a good time?’

‘Yeah, it was great. Thanks, Dad.’

The Sheriff smiled and ruffled Stiles’ locks. His fingers lingered for a moment and he looked as though he were going to say something but stopped himself.

‘I guess there is some tidying up to do now.’

‘Eugh,’ Stiles groaned, throwing his head back. ‘can’t I do it later.’

‘I know you, Stiles;’ his father said sternly. ‘later means never.’

‘Well, yeah.’

The Sheriff pretended to clout Stiles over the head and made for the sink where a pile of chocolate covered plates were stacked.

‘I can do that, sir.’ Derek offered but the Sheriff shook his head.

‘No, I’ve got it. You two can make a start on the living room.’

After much complaining and stubbornly refusing to move off the kitchen stool until he was dragged off by supernatural werewolf strength, Stiles and Derek bustled about the living room, packing up the presents into a box and throwing away the wrapping paper. Stiles laughed as he watched Derek vacuuming up the litter of popcorn on the floor; he had thought it bizarre enough to see the man cooking but cleaning was something else. He was still laughing, much to Derek’s irritation, when his father came back in and wished them both a goodnight. Stiles tried not to catch his eye as he made for the stairs. They hadn’t discussed if Derek was staying the night but he had a feeling his father wanted to talk about that even less than Stiles did.

When the living room was cleared of all mess, they made for the kitchen where Stiles rinsed out his cup of tea and dried the draining board with a tea towel. He could feel Derek hovering behind him. He kept turning around to see what it was he wanted but the man would turn away each time. When Stiles was finished, dabbing off some splashes of water from his sling, he watched Derek fidget about the small space of the kitchen.

‘Umm, what’s up with you?’

Derek stopped and shot him a look.

‘What?’

‘You’re fidgeting. You don’t usually lose your cool like this. Something up?’

‘No.’ Derek said quickly. His fingers continuing to fidgeted around his jacket pocket.

‘Hmm, sure.’

Derek rolled his eyes and moved a few steps closer to Stiles.

‘I didn’t want to give it to you earlier, but…I have something for you.’

‘Oh really?’

Derek nodded and withdrew a small box from his jacket pocket. Stiles felt butterflies come to life in his stomach. Derek eyed him with a raised brow.

‘You look like you’re going to be sick. Calm down, it’s not a bloody ring or anything.’

Stiles let out the breath he had been holding and sighed in relief. As happy as he was to be with Derek, he wasn’t sure his father would agree to let him marry the man. Stiles laughed as he realised how silly the thought had been.

Derek handed him the box, scowling a little in a way Stiles now knew meant he was nervous. Stiles took it, palming the small box in his hands. He turned it the right way and held it in one hand, prying open the stiff lid with the other. Inside, cushioned by padding that would normally hold a piece of jewellery, was a key.

‘A key.’ Stiles stated robotically.

Derek bristled a little, rounding his shoulders.

‘It’s a key to my place.’

‘Oh.’

Neither of them spoke for a moment. Stiles eyed the key with rapidly blinking eyes.

‘I just thought…’ Derek trailed off, kicking a foot out against the kitchen island and averting his eyes.

Stiles ran a gentle finger down the silver key, his heart swelling twice the size. It was hammering in his chest, leaping for joy. It was almost too much to contain and rendered him speechless. He wanted to jump into Derek’s arms, to showering him in kisses but he knew his frail body wouldn’t permit it. Eventually, he found his voice again and not a moment too soon; Derek looked as if he was going to die from embarrassment.

‘Thank you.’ he said quietly, his voice scratchy with emotion.

Derek’s eyes flickered in his direction and back down again. He shrugged.

‘You’re welcome.’ He sniffed and rubbed a finger under his nose casually. ‘Whatever. Now I don’t have to keep answering the door when you come over.’

Stiles bit the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing. Derek was quite desperately trying to save face. Stiles decided to let him. Just this once.

‘Well, thank you. I love it.’ Stiles stepped forward and stood with his chest to Derek’s. He tilted his head back and pressed a kiss to the man’s lips. Derek’s lips chased after his briefly and Stiles smiled smugly. ‘I guess I should give you one too. A key I mean.’ He held up the key, turning it in his fingers.

‘I’m not sure your dad would approve.’

‘Hmm, I guess not.’ Stiles rested his hands on Derek’s pecks. His skin was so warm, so inviting, even through his t-shirt. Stiles could feel his body heating up just at the simple touch. ‘Well, it was the best present I’ve gotten today.’

Derek quirked a smile and nodded.

‘Good.’ He looked past Stiles to the kitchen island where the remainder of the cake sat on its plate. ‘Maybe I should have made you a cake like the one you made me.’ Derek said, reaching out and swiping a finger through the icing. Stiles batted his hand away with a laugh.

‘Mmm, and re-enact the events that ensued?’

‘Here? While your dad is upstairs pacing his bedroom floor.’ Stiles’ head shot up to look at the ceiling, brow raised as he listened for the sound of his father’s footfall. ‘He’s fine,’ Derek reassured. ‘he’s just anxious about leaving you down here with me.’

‘He shouldn’t be, you’re the kindest person I’ve ever met. You’d never hurt me.’

Derek shrugged.

‘That may be but he’s your father and in his eyes, I’m a ferocious beast who could kill you with one swipe.’

‘Yeah, well so could Lydia but Dad never had a problem with me being in love with her.’ Derek’s frame went a little stiff and Stiles realised what he’s said. It was one of the many things they had yet to discuss. He hadn’t exactly planned how it would happen and he was sure Derek hadn’t either. ‘Umm, sorry, I didn’t mean for it to come out that way. I didn’t mean that…’ Derek shuffled from one foot to the other, head down, eyes staring at the cake. ‘Not that I don’t, I do, Derek I really do.’ Stiles stuttered, limbs beginning to flail despite the pain as his brain tried to catch up with his mouth. ‘Shit, I really fucked this one up. Derek, I-’

‘Do you know why I sometimes used a condom when we had sex?’ Derek asked calmly. Stiles caught his breath. It was safe to say it hadn’t been what he was expecting to hear.

‘Umm, sure, we can talk about that?’

Derek sighed and shook his head.

‘Did you ever wonder why I used them when there was no need?’ Derek raised his head and looked at him with such vulnerability that Stiles was completely lost for words. Stiles shook his head. ‘In all the time we’ve been together, I’ve not been able to control what happened. You are so unlike anyone I’ve ever been with before, so unpredictable. You needed me in a way that I couldn’t control. Sex is something I _can_ control. Sex is something physical. I was losing control of my emotions, of how I…you know…’

‘How you felt about me?’

Derek nodded.

‘Using condoms was like some subconscious way of controlling the one aspect of our relationship that we ever talked about. I was too scared of how things were changing, about what was happening between us. But I’m not afraid anymore. I know how I… _feel_.’ Derek looked sickened by even saying the word. It was safe to say that the man was emotionally stunted. ‘But I don’t think I’m ready to say it. Not yet.’

Stiles eyed the man’s face. He was avoiding contact, head turned, cheeks a little pink. His eyes were downcast but Stiles could still see the beautiful hazel that he had fallen in love with. He reached out and took Derek’s hand in his own, linking their fingers.

‘Well then,’ he started, laughing into a grin. ‘I’ll just have to say it for the both of us.’ He slipped his other arm out of its sling and raised his hand to cup Derek’s whickered cheek. ‘Derek Hale, you irritating, grumpy sourwolf, I am completely, ridiculously and irrevocably in love with you.’

Derek audibly swallowed.

‘You are?’

Stiles barked a laugh.

‘Yes, I am. Totally, without doubt.’ He stroked Derek’s cheek, eyes flickering over the wonderful face of the man he loved. ‘You know, back then, when you took me to the woods, I was trying to tell you something. I was trying to tell you that I thought I was falling in love with you. But then everything got so complicated and I never got to tell you. And as time went on, I convinced myself that I couldn’t possibly be in love with you.’ Stiles looked Derek in the eyes, holding his gaze as their fingers linked tighter. ‘But I am. I love you, Derek. And I know you love me too.’

Derek’s own eyes darted over Stiles’ face before he leant forward and rested their foreheads together. Their breathing synced, their hearts beating as one through their chests and Stiles finally felt completely content, breathing in the warm, comforting scent that he had grown to love so dearly.

He knew things would never be easy. Life would always have something new to throw at them, something that might very well tear them apart. But they would fight through it all. Stiles knew he could pull through any hardship with the people he loved most of all by his side. They would never fail him and he would never fail them.

He and Derek still had a lot of things to sort out. They needed to lean on each other to make it through all that was sure to come. But they would. They would make it through. Together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Coming up:  
> The actual final chapter - Derek tells Stiles how he feels in his own wonderfully awkward way.


	44. Epilogue: After the Final Page

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all.  
> So, we have come to the final chapter.  
> I would just like to say a massive thank you to all of you for reading my story, for those of you who have left kudos and mostly for those of you who left me such wonderful comments, advice, constructive criticism and words of support.  
> This story has taken me about five years to write and I am so glad I finally posted it and have completed the final chapter.  
> I have written a note at the end about another work I am currently writing if you are interested.  
> So, thanks again and please enjoy the final chapter of Bad Liar.

Saturday, 25th April

The warm glow of evening sunlight licked the windows in a ray of glorious yellow, bathing the room in long, comforting shadows as Derek and Stiles bustled about the kitchen. The stove was on, food fizzling nicely in its hot pan. Stiles hummed to himself as he tended to the meal and Derek glanced over at him once in a while, enjoying the domestic appearance of his boyfriend.

The look was distorted somewhat by the Hulk socks he was wearing and Derek amused himself with the thought that Stiles’ physical strength would pale in comparison to that of the giant green beast. But the Hulk’s physical strength was no match for the emotional strength Stiles had shown over the last few months. He had overcome serious trauma and come out the other side a better man. Derek would never admit it but he admire Stiles greatly for it.

They worked in quiet silence, Derek cleaning the chopping board, Stiles still humming a toneless melody as he cooked. Derek went to dry his hands as Stiles spoke out into the silence.

‘Are you excited?’ he asked as he poked at the steak in the pan with a spatula. Derek looked over to him from where he was getting out some cutlery. He shrugged.

‘Yeah, I guess so. I haven’t seen her in a while.’

‘I bet she’s excited.’

‘Cora doesn’t exactly do “excited”.’ Derek said with a smirk.

Shortly after Stiles had come out of the hospital and his injuries had cleared up, Derek had made a call to his sister. He realised that after almost losing her in the fire all those years ago and finally getting her back, he would be a fool to let her slip away again. She had agreed to come back to Beacon Hills for a few months to rebuild the relationship they once had as children. The only problem was that Isaac had to give up his bed. But he had been more than ok to move in with Chris and Allison. Derek smirked again at the thought of how giddy Isaac had been when he found out.

Derek felt Stiles move up behind him and wrap his arms around his waist. His hands had a habit of wandering where they shouldn’t and Derek laughed when his fingers slipped into his waistband.

‘Dinner first.’

Stiles made a small noise of complaint but Derek pried his hands away and they served up their food and sat down at the breakfast bar.

It had become standard procedure for them to cook together. Stiles came over at least three times a week and often spent the night. He even had his own shelves in Derek’s wardrobe. Derek also spent a fair amount of time at Stiles’ house. The Sheriff had eventually given in and allowed Stiles to give Derek a key although he had yet to use it, preferring to ring the bell rather than waltz into the house of a man who had a licence to own multiple guns.

They tucked into their food, Stiles making sounds of approval as juices from the steak dripped down his chin.

‘’his ih ooo ood.’ he mumbled around the meat.

Derek had to agree.

‘It’s not as good as that cake though.’

Stiles grinned, food in his teeth, and winked at him. Had Derek not felt the way he did about the boy, he would have found it repulsive. Instead, it filled him with a warmth that no amount of sunlight could imitate.

‘I’ll have to make it for you again some time.’ he said, a foot running up the length of Derek’s shin in a sultry manner. Derek pretended he didn’t notice. Stiles pressed his toes into his calf.

‘If that’s your attempt at seducing me, you’re going to have to try harder. I’m more attracted to his slab of meat right now.’

‘Hey!’ Stiles cried in mock offence. He picked up a cherry tomato from his plate and tossed it at Derek’s head. It bounced off his temple and landed on the floor. Derek stared at his plate, a curl of a smile creeping onto his lips. He took a slow breath and could hear Stiles trying not to laugh. He looked up, controlling his expression into cold indifference before picking up the ketchup bottle from between them and moving to stand from his seat. Stiles seemed to realise what was happening as he put his hands out in defence. ‘Wait, no! Wait, wait, wait!’ Derek grabbed Stiles by the t shirt and flipped the cap off with his thumb.  Stiles laughed and cried out, pushing Derek away as the bottle came closer. Derek squeezed and red sauce drizzled out and down the inside of Stiles’ top. ‘Aah! You horrible man!’ Stiles made sounds of horror and batted at Derek’s arms. But his eyes were wet with humour and Derek pressed his hand into Stiles’ chest, smudging the ketchup over him through the material of his t shirt. Stiles eventually gave up fighting back and dropped his arms to the side, watching Derek with a pouted smile. ‘You dick.’

‘Don’t throw food.’ Derek said flatly but he couldn’t hold back a grin for long. He bent his head down and captured Stiles’ lips in a kiss. Stiles kissed back, making another sound of approval, this one somewhat stronger. Derek pulled back as he heard someone at the door downstairs, followed by two voices.

‘What is it?’ Stiles asked, looking up at him.

‘Scott and Isaac.’

‘Oh. They must be collecting Isaac’s things.’

‘I guess so.’

Derek stepped away but Stiles clung on to him.

‘Maybe just another quick kiss?’

Derek complied and bent down, pressing their lips together once more. He closed his eyes, enjoying the contact. He could hear the boys making their way to the stairs and made to pull away but Stiles had a hand on his v neck and kept him close. And that’s when Derek felt something cold dribble down his back. He jumped away, hands flying to his shoulders where they came away yellow, American mustard running down his neck.

‘You little shit.’

Derek grabbed Stiles and tackled him from his seat, holding him by the waist and tickling his stomach which always sent him into hysterics. Stiles laughed and cried, tumbling to the floor.

‘Oh god, stop, stop! I can’t take it!’ he cried, tears streaming down his cheeks. The door to the apartment opened and Scott and Isaac came through, both stopping to stare at the scene before them that had Stiles in a crumpled mess on the floor, Derek kneeling over him, both covered in condiments. Both Stiles and Derek looked over to the door. ‘Oh hey guys,’ Stiles said as he breathing evened out again. ‘what’s up?’

‘This isn’t what I was expecting when I heard you crying out.’ Isaac said blankly next to Scott who looked bemused, head titled to the side. ‘But I’m kinda glad it wasn’t.’

‘Umm, what are you doing?’ Scott asked, a smile creeping onto his lips.

‘Oh, just having dinner.’ Stiles said as he rolled onto his front and pushed himself up.

‘I’m pretty sure the sauces are meant to go on the plate, not you.’

‘Yeah, yeah.’ Stiles said dismissively. ‘We like to mix it up a bit.’

Derek snorted and stood up, grabbing some kitchen roll and swabbing at the mess on his back.

‘Anyway, I’ve just come to get the last of my things.’ Isaac walked to the sofa bed where his belongings were waiting for him.

‘You don’t need to take it all. Cora is only staying for a few months. The bed is yours again when she moves out.’

‘Thanks. I really appreciate it. I don’t know how things are gonna go with Allison though. We might spend the whole summer together.’ Derek could see a blush on his cheeks.

‘Ok, well, the offer is there.’

Isaac nodded his thanks and set about collecting up his things. Derek went over to help him, watching as Scott moved to Stiles and the two friends chatted amicably. Derek was glad his relationship with Stiles hadn’t caused any problems between the friends. He knew there was a deep rooted connection between them that he would never fully understand but he was glad Stiles had someone who loved him that much. He was thankful Scott would be there for him if there ever came a time when Derek couldn’t be. But he prayed that would never happen.

‘Sorry for interrupting your dinner.’ Isaac said, zipping up his last bag and lifting it onto his shoulder.

‘It’s fine. Is that everything?’

‘Yeah, that’s it.’ Isaac looked past Derek to Stiles and Scott. ‘How are things going with you two?’

Derek folded his arms, also looking over to Stiles who was grinning brightly, eyes dancing with life. Things were going just fine. Derek bit his lip to stop it from twitching.

‘Things are good.’

‘I’m glad. I’m glad you’re happy.’ Isaac looked genuine and it was Derek’s turn to nod his thanks.

‘So am I.’

When Isaac and Scott had all of Isaac’s things, they moved to the door where they said their goodbyes. Stiles wrapped his arm around Derek’s waist and Derek rested his own on the boy’s shoulders.

‘God, it’s still so weird seeing you two together.’ Scott said, shaking his head.

‘I think I’m still in disbelief myself.’ Stiles said with a chuckle, catching Derek’s eye. He was inclined to agree. A year ago he never would have foreseen himself with Stiles. They were always at odds, arguing and winding each other up. He couldn’t have thought of anything worse than spending an extended length of time with the boy. But now he wouldn’t dream of being apart from him. Stiles had awoken parts of him that he never expected to feel again and he would never give that up for anything.

When the boys had gone, they returned to their dinner, ignoring the terrible state of their clothes. A joint shower was definitely in order. Stiles got through his steak in seconds, shoving as much food in his mouth as he could, swallowing chunks whole. Derek was sure he would choke.

‘Are you finished?’ Stiles asked, standing up and reaching for Derek’s plate. Derek shook his head but Stiles took the plate anyway and Derek chased after it with his fork, snatching up the last piece of steak.

‘Oi.’

Stiles laughed and dumped the plates in the sink. He grabbed Derek’s hand and pulled him from his seat, dragging him towards the bedroom. Derek wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and chuckled, gladly allowing himself to be manhandled into bed.

Once the bedroom door was shut and Derek was leaning back on the bed, Stiles climbed on top of him, kissing him fiercely. Derek, propped up on his elbows, dropped onto his back, wrapping his arms around Stiles’ shoulders, tongues swirling, teeth nipping. Stiles rolled his hips into Derek’s groin, sending all the blood into Derek’s underwear. The taste of Stiles’ mouth, the feel of his body and the reaction he caused in Derek was still new and exciting. Derek was pretty sure he would always be excited by the thought of Stiles. He was like electricity, always pumping with energy. And that energy passed through to Derek every time they touched.

The first time they slept together after Stiles’ injuries had been like something from a dream. The pent up energy was unreal, buzzing around them both anytime they were together but unable to touch each other. Derek had refused to give in to temptation until Stiles was completely heal. However, after three weeks of abstinence, Stiles managed to convince him that he was ready. His arm was still in a cast and Derek tried his best to be gentle but it had been hard when Stiles had begged and cried for more.

‘Oh god, I want you so much.’ Stiles whispered, a shiver running all over Derek’s skin. He moaned, pushing up into the boy. ‘God, I want it so bad.’

Derek continued to kiss him as he turned them over, hands seeking skin, pushing Stiles’ shirt over his head. He had wiped away most of the ketchup but there were still traces of the mess and Derek licked it up with the tip of his tongue, stopping to suck in a nipple. Stiles reacted intensely, bucking up and crying out. He undressed Stiles slowly, kissing and licking every inch of exposed skin. Stiles panted as he lay there. He knew how much Derek enjoyed taking off his clothes. He had learnt to lay still and allow Derek to take his time, to explore every part of his body.

‘So soft.’ Derek said gutturally, lips brushing over the skin of Stiles’ inner thigh. ‘It’s like silk.’

‘Mmm, I know of something even softer.’ Stiles sat up, pushing Derek back onto the bed. He undid Derek’s jeans and reached out for Derek’s cock, stroking it slowly. ‘Now this is silky.’

Derek enjoyed the attention, watching Stiles intently as he lovingly played with Derek, fist twisting and wrist rolling, finding all sorts of ways to pleasure him. Derek reciprocated, much to Stiles’ delight. But Derek knew Stiles was impatient and would soon be begging for more.

When they were both completely naked, skin touching from head to toe, Derek prepped Stiles with wet fingers. He worked them in and out, stretching and pressing. Stiles groaned and rolled his hips, biting Derek’s shoulder. Derek loved the sound of it, the squelching of lube inside the boy. But he loved the feeling of his tight hole around his cock even more. Stiles got onto his hands and knees, presenting himself to Derek. Derek shuddered with desire and lined himself up. He pressed his cock at the entrance, moving forward slowly. Stiles was always tight, always needing to be loosened up. Stiles moaned from deep within as Derek pushed all the way in. He held still for a few moments, waiting for Stiles to give him the signal. Stiles breathed in deeply, slowly moving his hips as he adjusted. But then he nodded and Derek began to move, leaning forward to wrap an arm around Stiles’ torso, lips kissing his neck and ear.

‘So tight. So hot.’

‘Mmm, it’s so big.’

Derek found a good rhythm, pumping into Stiles, rocking their bodies as one. Stiles reached behind him with one hand, pulling at Derek’s hair. The feeling of heat around his cock was like nothing else. He wanted to be inside him forever, hands always on the boy’s skin. Stiles pushed back into him and they began to speed up. But Derek wanted to make it last. He kept to his rhythm, ignoring Stiles’ grunts of annoyance.

He pulled out and turned them over, grabbing Stiles’ legs and pulling him to the edge of the bed. He filled him again and resumed the pace. Stiles let his head fall back, hand coming to slowly stroke himself. It was beautiful to watch, his long neck exposed, eyes half lidded, their honey-amber glaze a comforting sight. Derek bent Stiles’ legs at the knee and leant over him again, kissing his plump lips. Stiles pressed his entire body up into him, seeking more friction. He always wanted more. It drove Derek wild.

‘Please, Derek.’

Derek almost laughed but nodded. He hoisted Stiles’ legs up higher, increasing the pace and giving Stiles what he wanted. Stiles clutched the sheets in his hands, mouth opening in a groan as Derek found his sweet spot and began hitting it dead on. He knew that would send Stiles over the edge too soon and readjusted. He wasn’t ready for it to end just yet.

He moved Stiles around like a rag doll, trying all sorts of positions. He kneaded Stiles’ backside with his fingers as he held the boy by the hips, Stiles holding himself up with arms around Derek’s neck. Stiles bounced on Derek’s lap, a small cry leaving his lips each time Derek filled him to the hilt. Then they lay beside one another, Derek fucking into him from behind while he stroked along Stiles’ side. Derek breathed in deeply, nose pressed into Stiles’ hot skin. He grunted as he bucked his hips in hard snaps, feeling is orgasm begin to build. Stiles was a moaning mess, already desperate for release.

Derek pulled Stiles back onto his hands and knees, pressing in once more and jerking into him in a fast pace. His hands ran all over the boy, loving the feel of his hard muscles under velvet skin. Dark moles littered his skin, all perfectly round and kissable.

‘Oh god, I’m so close…’

Derek shifted them so that Stiles was kneeling up, his back against Derek’s chest. He held him with one arm, the other pumping his cock. Stiles held on hard, head resting on Derek’s shoulder. They were close, ready to let go and feel the waves of pleasure drown them both. And just like that first time, when Stiles had clung to Derek to desperately, begging for some kind of release from his own inner turmoil, Derek pressed his lips to Stiles’ ear and whispered in a husky tone.

‘Cum for me, Stiles.’

xxx

Saturday, 25th April

Stiles breathed in the hot steam, relaxing into the warm body behind him as water cascaded down their naked bodies. He was content and satisfied, ready to curl up in bed. Derek peppered his back in kisses, neither of them willing to move. They had washed and cleaned themselves and were enjoying simply standing together in the waterfall of the shower. But eventually, Stiles became too pruney to bare and they turned off the water, stepping out into the cool air. Derek grabbed towels and tossed one at Stiles. Stiles dabbed at his skin and wrapped the towel around his waist. Derek did the same and took another from the shelf, using it to scrub at Stiles’ hair. Stiles stood still, allowing Derek to dry him. Stiles looked up at the man from under the cotton, smiling sleepily. Derek smiled back, tapping him on the end of the nose with a finger when he was done.

They moved back into the bedroom and changed into their pyjamas. Stiles dove under the covers, nestling into the pillow. Derek climbed in beside him, reaching for a book on his bedside table.

‘You gonna read?’

‘No, I’m going to tear out the pages to make kindling.’ Derek replied dryly. Stiles kicked him gently under the duvet for making fun of him. ‘You want to read too?’

‘Hmm, I don’t have anything with me.’

Derek looked at him for a moment, something crossing his mind behind hazel eyes. He then turned to his bedside table again and opened the top draw. He took out a book and handed it to Stiles.

Stiles took it and recognised the well-worn cover.

‘Weren’t you just reading this?’ he asked, turning over the copy of _Of Mice and Men._ Derek shrugged.

‘I thought you might want to read it this time.’

Stiles raised a brow but shrugged as well. He carefully thumbed open the cover, passing the message from Paige on the inside, and riffled through the first few introductory pages to the beginning. He read the first few lines, ones he remembered from the time he had read it in Derek’s new armchair. He continued on through the first chapter and found himself hooked. He didn’t notice the time passing as he flipped through the pages, one after another. Derek read silently next to him, neither seeming to notice as the time ticked by, their feet touching once in a while under the duvet.

Stiles found himself stifling a yawn as he came to the last few pages of the book. He could see why Derek liked it so much, could see how its’ messages mirrored Derek’s own life. It was a short book and had only taken him a few hours to get through. Derek was still reading. It was already the early hours of the morning, past when Derek would normally be asleep. Stiles scanned through the last few lines of the book as the clock was reaching three am. He felt his body slipping further under the covers as the pages had gone on and he was ready to curl up next to Derek and sleep in the warm glow of his arms.

When he finished the final line, Stiles turned over the page, ready to shut the book. But something in the top right corner of the back cover caught his eye. He held the book a little closer to read what had been written.

_Thank you for loving me. Love, D_

Stiles’ heart skipped a beat. He looked up over the book at Derek who was watching him with anticipation in his eyes.

‘Is this…for me?’

Derek nodded.

Stiles looked back to the inscription, stroking over the precious words with the pads of his fingers.

‘I do, you know.’ Derek said quietly, eyes round with what Stiles knew was coyness. Stiles smiled. He knew exactly what he meant.

He swallowed hard, a lump forming in his throat.

‘So…you can write it, you just can’t say it?’

Derek made a small noise and hid his face in his pillow. Stiles pulled away the corner of it, Derek’s eye peeping up at him. Stiles’ heart fluttered. He never would have thought Derek Hale could be so adorable.

‘Just give me time.’ Derek said softly.

Stiles stroked his fingers through the man’s dark hair, lovingly. He knew Derek would get there in the end. After everything he had been through, after all the heartbreak, it was no wonder those words were so hard to say. But it didn’t matter to Stiles. He knew Derek felt them and that was all that mattered.

‘We’ve got nothing but time.’

Lying in bed that night, Derek curled close behind him, the soft breaths of sleep tickling his neck, Stiles was reminded of the wish he had made on his birthday;

_I wish to be by his side, forever._

And as sleep began to draw him in, a night of peaceful dreams awaiting him, warmly encircled by loving arms, he prayed that it might just come true.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That was it folks. I hope you enjoyed it.  
> As I said above, I have another story that I am working on. It is quite different from this one. It is an AU and should hopefully have a bit more humour in it. It is not finished; I am still in the process of ironing out the plot but I have about fifteen chapters written so far. I will post it once I have figured out the plot entirely and written most of the chapters. So it may take some time so don't expect it to come out soon. Here is a rough description/blurb of it;
> 
> In a world dictated by status, Stiles struggles as an omega. He feels the world is against him and he's given up hope of succeeding in life. He's reckless and lives for fun. But when he meets an attractive, dominant man in a club, his world begins to change.  
> Derek, with his alpha status, has always succeed in life. He wants for nothing other than a good nights sleep and a weekend away from the office. As the CEO of his own architectural company, free time is scarce. He avoids his family after a past that has driven a wedge between them and he ignores their desire for him to "settle down" as he can't imagine fitting a partner into his already hectic schedule. But after meeting a cocky, loud mouthed beauty who crashes into his life and refuses to leave him alone, Derek realises that it might not be so bad to share his life with someone. Especially when that someone is carrying his baby.
> 
> So that's my next story. Obvs its an mpreg which I never thought I would write but I read two amazing mpreg Sterek fics and a story of my own developed in mind.  
> If you are at all interested, please look out for this story in the future.  
> Thanks again to all of you for reading. This has been great.  
> Bye!

**Author's Note:**

> Please review if you liked it :)


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